


An Empire In Chaos

by pelagiczone



Series: Walking a Fine Line [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dishonored 2, Elder Scrolls Lore, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forced Relationship, Imperial Legion - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mark of the Outsider (Dishonored), Minor Character Death, Morrowind, Sex, Solstheim, Stormcloaks, Suicide, The Void
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelagiczone/pseuds/pelagiczone
Summary: Slaying Alduin was the easy part for well-trained, physically tough Dovahkiin Indra. Now, the province of Skyrim faces a civil war, with two factions believing they have the right to the title of High King and the Jagged Crown. As the Dragonborn, she is required to choose a side, but when she learns what this means for the province, she finds herself considering another option. Indra's desire to put the person she believes worthy on the throne forces her to confront the ugly side of humanity, as well as herself. Even after the political crisis becomes as resolved as possible, there's no rest for the wicked, as strange things have been happening back home on Solstheim, which require Indra's investigation.Worst of all, the Dragonborn of this story must face all of this alone, as her right hand man, friend, and lover Teldryn Sero has vanished without a trace as he attempts to find closure to his own troubles. Though their separate stories force them to grow in different directions, they find it increasingly difficult to completely forget the other.





	1. Indra Alone

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you to everybody for reading this, and I hope you enjoy it. Special thank you to Darkexxod, JudithD, raunchyandpaunchy, futsch, and Sejuani as well as a bunch of guests for the kudos! Super special shoutout to futsch for her consistent feedback!
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. The first volume of this series, "Cold Fire", is pretty much a necessary read to get up to speed with the context of the relationships and situations in this volume (not totally trying to self-promote, just a little, heh).
> 
> 2\. This story will have multiple points-of-view, so I'll try to keep those in separate chapters as much as possible. 
> 
> 3\. A number of "Dishonored" spoilers!
> 
> 4\. Lots of heavy topics, I tried to put in as many TWs as possible in the tags, but please let me know if I've forgotten any.
> 
> 5\. Rated M for mature - graphic descriptions of violence and some gore, sex and general adult themes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indra returns from her battle in Sovngarde to find that The Blades and Teldryn have left her behind. Jarl Balgruuf insists she start negotiating terms with the Imperials and Stormcloaks to figure out what will be best for Whiterun. Her public status as Dragonborn starts to catch up with her.

* * *

* * *

When Tsun transported me back to the world of the living, I didn't end up where I thought I would, nor did I arrive somewhere I wanted to be. I thought I would be back in Dragonsreach, where Balgruuf's tension regarding the threat to Whiterun would be eased, where I could be in Teldryn's arms again, and I would be free of my responsibilities as Dragonborn. Instead, I ended up at the Throat of the World, surrounded by dragons lamenting their fallen leader. Paarthurnax landed near me, sending a gust of snow and chilling wind in my direction as he acknowledged the defeat of his superior, whom he once served.

            "Zu'u am Ni happy, Nuz zu'u dreh lost respect fah hi" (I am not happy, but I do have respect for you,) The ancient creature said, observing me with cloudy eyes.

            "I don't know how, or what, I feel," I replied, limping closer to the wise dragon. My ribs and back hurt from shouting with so much force, my legs were sore from running for cover and my arms were shaking from the effort of striking that damn monster over and over. "Relieved that Alduin is gone," I continued, "but I almost feel...regret. Or sadness, perhaps? I also feel as if I absorbed some kind of darkness,"

            "Nii los ko hin sos wah rel. Dreh hi Ni feel tol?" The old dragon asked, looking at me inquisitively as he cocked his massive head to one side. "Fin vulom hdro alwayye existaan ko hi, fin sil do alduin only openaan tol door. Ahrk Nu, hi kos balancaan." (It is in your blood to dominate. Do you not feel that? The darkness has always existed in you, the soul of Alduin only opened that door. And now, you are balanced.)

            "I have no wish to dominate, that's not who I am," I said, sitting down in the soft, clean snow, feeling the dull cold against the waterproof chitin fabric. Standing was too much effort, and the scratches, bruises, cuts and burns I had received in my battle had started to make their presence known. That Paarthurnax was telling me I had enjoyed what it took to get here was starting to push me over. "I've barely been able to come to terms with the lives I had to take in order to get here, and now you're telling me that by serving what is good in the world, I've allowed darkness to infiltrate my being?"

            "Would hi lost done pah tol hi lost, if vulom had Ni already been aan part do hi?" (Would you have done all that you have, if darkness had not already been a part of you?)

            "I didn't do what I did because of who I am," I exclaimed, attempting to defend myself, yet doing an unconvincing job as I was unable to raise my voice due to the ache at the bottom of my ribcage and near my spine. "I only had to follow this path, which involved killing those that stood in my way."

            "Are you the cause of your actions, or do your actions define who you are?" Paarthurnax replied in the common language, for whatever reason. I was cold, tired, hungry and confused, and the old dragon's philosophical crap was starting to get on my nerves.

            "You know what?" I said, standing back up, "The Blades, they want you dead, and I refuse to kill you. If I truly wanted to enact revenge out of hatred for the dragons, I would have struck you down by now. How could somebody that doesn't intrinsically know the difference between what is right, and what is just, go against the word of those that she protected to do what is right?"

            Paarthurnax stared at me, weighing his years of experience with mortals against my convictions about my own, tiny speck of existence, before speaking. "Tiid fen tell what hin vahzah intentionne kos. Come, Nu, let mu bo. Zu'u fen take hi back wah hin people" (Time will tell what your true intentions are. Come, now, let us fly. I will take you back to your people.)

* * *

            We approached the Great Balcony of Dragonsreach to a line of guards with readied arrows. Irileth spotted me and I saw her yelling and pointing at her men, giving them the order to stand down. Despite her commands, I could hear the guards' shouts of alarm, but they were drowned out by the gusts of wind from Paarthurnax's wings, and the crashing of his talons as we landed. A minute later, I was carefully climbing off the old dragon's back, my exhausted limbs trembling as my hands slipped off his rough scales. He caught me with his snout before I completely fell.

            "Thank you, Paarthurnax, for everything," I said, standing up straight and readjusting my robes. "Please be careful; The Blades will know who you are, and they believe you dead."

            "Ruz zu'u fen soar high. Zu'u Niid longer faas alduindo presence," (Then I will soar high. I no longer fear Alduin's presence.) "Aal Mu grik again." (May we meet again.) With those final words, the noble creature rose from the wooden floor with a powerful beat of his wings and took off into the grey, cold sky. I was sad to see him go, as there was something comforting about his presence; however, I knew I had to get on with my responsibility to Whiterun, and turned my attention to Jarl Balgruuf.

            "Thank you for trusting me, again," I said to him with a bow, then straightened and eagerly looked around the large wooden enclosure. Valor ran up to me, licking my hands in excitement, but I didn't see my other companion. "Where's Teldryn?" I asked, searching the corners for his dark figure as I bent at the knees to rub Valor's ears.

            "He left right after you flew away on Odahviing," Balgruuf replied. My heart sank. Why on Nirn would he do that? Did he think we would reconvene elsewhere? "Didn't say where he was going," The Jarl continued, ignoring the way my face fell. "The Blades went back to Sky Haven Temple with the Elder Scroll. Now," He said briskly, getting straight to the point, "I've held up my part of the bargain, and you must uphold yours. This war needs to come to and end, and you are in a position to negotiate terms with either the Imperials or Stormcloaks."

            I pushed my thoughts of Teldryn away, figuring he went back to Leaf Rest, and focused on Balgruuf's requests. "Are you saying I need to choose a side?" I asked, anxiety welling up inside me. While I was a competent warrior and never had any difficulty pushing through all manners of physical discomfort, I had no real experience settling political matters and was clueless about my role in the war. 

            "Perhaps," He answered, studying me. "However, I would hope you choose the side that benefits Whiterun most of all,"

            "Of course," I nodded, "I suppose I should try and figure out the intentions of both parties before making a decision."

            Balgruuf agreed. "That would be most wise," He said, adding, "this war is reaching a tipping point, and we don't have much time left before its leaders start lashing out and destroying all of Skyrim in their wake. The common people suffer the most, and their lives as well as the lives of their children, for many generations, will be ruined." He put his hands on his hips and gave me a steely stare before he continued. "Do you understand what this means?" He asked, severity in his voice and eyes.

            His words reminded me of what Brunwulf Free-Winter had said when I first inquired about the accountability of the civil war, as well as its ramifications.

            "Yes," I finally replied, "that I need to go to either Solitude or Windhelm, at once."

* * *

            After I left Dragonsreach, I stopped off at the Bannered Mare, thinking that perhaps Teldryn had just gone for a drink or two. I opened the doors, hoping to see him entertaining the general patronage, welcoming me back with a cocky grin. He was not there, and I did not spot him through the rest of Whiterun as I gathered the supplies I needed for the trip with the money Balgruuf had gifted me. I noticed that Delphine had taken Gulch with her, meaning I was on my own for transportation. After speaking with the carriage driver, he said was able to provide a ride to Solitude, but indicated that we would first need to go through Rorikstead, as part of the requirements for this particular journey. While I was a bit nervous about taking any longer than necessary, I was still justifiably sore after fighting the world-eater, and agreed to this detour. I then returned to the tavern for food and a bed. Word hadn't spread that Alduin had been defeated, and I was able to stay at the inn without any disruptions from awed citizens, thank Azura. When I crawled into the same bed Teldryn and I had shared for the first time, I thought it didn't feel warm enough without him, despite how far away he had intentionally stayed from me that night. Then I thought, maybe the chill I felt was simply all-around exhaustion. My body, my mind, my heart; all becoming worn out.

            The next day the carriage set off for Solitude, where I entertained a few fellow travelers with stories of some of the adventures I had been on. Though I was well-rested, I found it took great effort for me to recall these events, and I really just wanted to be left alone, and not have to make idle conversation with anyone. After we arrived in Rorikstead in the evening, I began walking along the rough path to the inn with Valor in tow, which is when I noticed a few people staring at me, some even pointed. It was the same story inside Frostfruit inn; I kept catching the eyes of residents and barmaids alike as they pretended not to glance in my direction when they thought I wasn't paying attention. Eventually, I stood up from my wooden bench and asked a woman what they thought they were doing.

            "Word has gotten out about the Dragonborn being a half-breed with violet eyes, wearing dark green robes with a big dog," She whispered, "Are you...?"

            Oh, fuck. Attention was the last thing I needed, or wanted. Who knew what kind of crazy requests people would have for me.

            "Yes," I sighed, "but please, don't make a big deal out of it, okay? Can you tell your friends to do the same? I'm really tired and now I've got to help with this civil war nonsense." The woman nodded discreetly and returned to her drink.

            I was able to halfway enjoy the rest of the evening in peace and quiet, sipping ale as I thought about what happened in Sovngarde. The way Alduin's screams and the soul-draining mist made traversing the path to the Hall of Valor a terrifying ordeal. How sorry I was for those who hadn't yet realized they were dead. Tsun's suspicions at my intentions and title, and the strange look of acknowledgement he gave me after only a single shout landed upon him. 

            When it came time to rally the troops and face the world-eater, I felt as if I barely had to do anything against Alduin, as the old heroes did more than their fair share and I only joined in the power of their Thu'um. I supposed this had always been the case when I found myself against opposition - each and every time, I had some kind of help. Continuing to stare down at my now empty plate and thinking on on the topic of help, I wondered where in Oblivion Teldryn had gotten to. Was this some kind of joke? I knew he enjoyed messing with me, but this seemed too far past cheekiness. I would have to check Leaf Rest when I got a chance. As I was deeply absorbed in thought, a young girl approached me and gently tugged on my cloak. She had clearly been crying.

            "Excuse me," She said quietly, tucking a strand of her straight, blond hair behind her ear. "Are you, the Dragonborn?"

            I looked around to make sure no one was staring before I nodded at her. "You can just call me Indra." I said, hoping I wasn't scaring her.

            "Could you come with me, please?" She seemed so desperately sad that I agreed. She led me to her house beside a working farm, and asked that I enter. The small, messy abode was dimly lit and smelled of sweat, peat and straw with a hint of manure. A young girl lay on a bed with her back to the living space.

            "That's my sister, Britte," The girl said quietly, looking over at where I held my attention. I followed her to the small kitchen table where she asked that I sit, and joined me closeby. "We're twins," She continued, looking at her sister. "We just turned twelve this year." She turned to me now, "The other day, we were playing in a field of wildflowers. There was an Imperial patrol nearby, and one of the guards went up to her. I was picking flowers so I didn't notice she had disappeared. He tricked her into following him somewhere, and then..."

            I could barely breath, and my heart was rising up in my chest. I had a feeling I knew exactly where this was going.

            "He," She put her hands in her head and began crying. "I don't know what's wrong with her now. All I know is he did something really bad to her." She wiped away her tears, and took a deep breath as she stopped crying. She looked up at me, and as the tears on her flushed face began to dry, I could see rage forming in her scowl. "He needs to pay for what he did. Can you find him and bring him here? Please? Our father doesn't care about her, or me."

            I stared at the girls, my breathing shallow. I thought about how I needed to get to Solitude right away, and Delphine's words echoed through my head.

            You're the Dragonborn, you can't just hold the hand of every downtrodden person you come across.

            "I'm sorry," I started, putting my hand on the young girl's shoulder. "I can't. I have to help stop the war so soldiers like that aren't around here anymore." She pulled away from me and began weeping again, but eventually reconciled that I had a duty greater than her troubles.

            "I understand," She said, completely deflated now. She looked back towards her sister with swollen eyes and stood up to sit beside her on the bed. I quietly left the house to return to Frostfruit, where I fell into a fitful sleep. I kept partially waking up throughout the night, rolling over and kicking the blankets as my mind cyclically brought up images of Paarthurnax intermingled with Alduin, the strange whalebone bridge in Sovngarde, and Teldryn, of course. As time grew on without him in my journey, I wished I could have just stopped him from haunting me, but I had no sense of closure. As quickly as he had appeared in my life, he had vanished again, just as mysteriously. How did I allow myself to trust him so easily? Why was it bothering me so much in the wee hours of the night? It was as if any small feeling became amplified one hundred fold in the darkness that engulfed the world just before the sunrise.

            The next morning after I got dressed, I heard a commotion outside. I walked out of Frostfruit to see a crowd had gathered around a large tree near town. Some people were crying softly, while others said nothing at all. As I approached the residents of Rorikstead, I realized what they were looking at.

            The body of a young girl was hanging from a noose.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indra seems to think she absorbed Alduins soul, seeing as that was what the prophecy foretold and what The Blades assured her would happen.
> 
> Paarthurnax may know more, but he hasn't reveled his hand yet.
> 
> It's known that Britte and Sissel don't have a good relationship in the game, but Sissel is still upset anyway. This apparent discrepancy will be addressed later.


	2. An Idiot and a Tyrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling through Skyrim to meet separately with the Imperial and Stormcloak leaders, Indra runs into old friends and gets wind of the beginning of another threat. In Windhelm, a clue about Teldryn pops up. Indra reconvenes with Balgruuf after meeting with both sides and discussing their intentions for Skyrim.

* * *

            I ran away from Rorikstead in the early morning chill, Valor panting beside me as tears welled up in my eyes. I ran and ran until I could run no more, the cold air slashing through my lungs and the wails of the young girl following me, no matter how fast my strides. I couldn't stop seeing Britte's eyes bulging out of her purple, swollen face, and the whole body-shaking sobs of her sister who knelt at the base of the tree. 

            When my legs gave out and I finally stopped, I could barely breath as I desperately gasped the frigid air that sent jolts of pain through my chest. I began coughing, forcing thick mucous out of my lungs. It tasted like blood and I knew that I had ruptured more than a few small blood vessels in my grueling sprint. It was my fault the girl had killed herself, I should have done something. Delphine was wrong...

            I continued to walk towards Dragon Bridge, one foot in front of the other, my mind focused on nothing in particular, flitting from one spastic thought to the next. How could humans be so cruel? What kind of person would do that to a child? Would it have been different if I had found the man and brought him to justice?

            Hours of walking in contemplation went by, and the sun was beginning to set, but I was not ready to make camp. Even if I felt tired enough, I knew I would not sleep, so I continued to walk through sundown and into darkness, periodically and mindlessly refreshing the candlelight spell above my head as I trudged through the night. I used to find the midnight forest to be a frightful place, as I didn't know what was lurking within it. Now that I knew which animals were nocturnal, I was not bothered by their calls, footsteps, or the glow of their eyes through the darkness of the trees.

            What scared me most right then was what lurked in the hearts of others.

            Suddenly, I heard a sound that I hadn't come across before, directly in front of me on the dark road ahead. It sounded like chewing, but not the ragged, feral slurping of wild animals. I silently came upon the scene, my enchanted boots muffling my steps. A person was hunched over a corpse, and appeared to be eating the flesh of the dead body. I let out a surprised noise, and the figure turned around to look at me. They rose from their feast and walked towards where I stood, frozen, their face eventually illuminated by my light.

            "MALBORN?!" I cried, realizing who it was.

            "Don't look at me like that, Indra," He grumbled, wiping off his face with a sleeve. "Brelas and I have been on the run since our little Thalmor party fiasco, and we're getting desperate. Besides, this is a traditional Bosmer custom."

            As I cringed at him, I saw the figure of Brelas rise up from the other side of the body, and she waved at me. I recalled that Teldryn had joked that I must have Bosmer in me as I was so proficient with a bow, and also due to the fact that I had befriended Valor with ease. Now I was pretty sure I was going to smack him for that comment. I didn't care how resourceful the wood elves were, that they indulged in cannibalism was just disgusting.

            "So...who are you eating?" I asked, unsure of what else to say.

            "No idea," Brelas answered, "but he attacked us first. What an idiot."

            I walked closer to the half-eaten body to inspect it. Whoever it had been was very well-dressed in robes I'd never seen before. They were red and black, with a high collar and somewhat jagged shoulders. The person appeared to have been a high elf, but his skin was paler than any of the Mer. I lifted his eyelid up, and saw that his eyes were blood red. Was he another half-breed like me, with odd traits that didn't quite fit one race?

            "VALOR, NO," Still bent over, I began kicking at the dog who was starting to dig in to the Altmer as well. Despite my attempts at dissuading him, the dog was hungry and I gave up. "Malborn, weren't you two trying to get to Windhelm?" I asked, my mind changing tracks as I stood up straight.

            Malborn sighed, irritated by my presence as usual. "Yes, but we can't take a direct route," He said, "there are way too many guards and potential Thalmor lurking around. We're going to lay low around the Reach and Falkreath Hold before we start trying to get to Windhelm after the war is over."

            "Why don't you come camp with us for the night?" Brelas asked, as she began walking away from the body. "We have some tents set up over here. We were looking for a rabbit or whichever woodland creature for dinner, but he ended up finding us first."

            After Valor had eaten his fill, I followed the two elves to their camp and set up my tent near theirs. I then joined them beside the fire, nibbling on some bread as I didn't have much of an appetite after what I had seen.

            "So, where's that dark elf friend of yours?" Malborn asked as I sat down. 

            My heart sank. "I don't know," I replied quietly. "After I returned from fighting Alduin, he had just vanished, and I haven't had time to look for him."

            Brelas uttered a grunt of indignation. "Some loyalty," She said sarcastically, "were you two close?"

            "I thought we were," I said, staring into the fire, "but maybe he didn't think so." Should I have been surprised? 

            I could feel sympathy radiating from Brelas, but I was unsure of how to absorb her concern, as I still held out hope. Maybe he was still in Skyrim and we would find each other again.

            Later that night, I crawled into my bedroll, thankful for the company of the two wood elves, but missing Teldryn even more now. Valor lay down beside me and looked into my eyes, then let out a burp. It smelled like raw meat.

            I groaned and held a hand up to my face. "You really are a vile dog," I said to him, pushing his snout away. He deflected my shove and panted at me in glee.

* * *

            I bid farewell to the couple the next morning as we went our separate ways, and found I was alone again with my thoughts. The last time I had been on this path, it was right before Teldryn had fallen ill from his infected wounds and I had to rush him to Morthal. While his stubbornness at refusing to admit he needed help vexed me at the time, I now smiled at the memory. Such a S'wit. Yet, if he was so stubborn in nature, then why didn't that translate into refusing to leave my side? 

            I made it to Dragon Bridge while it was still light out, and looked up at the sculpture that framed the impressive walkway. A large dragon head had been carved from stone, and hung so that it looked down upon those who crossed underneath it.

            Was it a monument to the dragons themselves, or to man's vanity and pride at their domination over the beasts? From what I learned, despite their bloodthirsty ways, the dragons held more honour than people ever could. I walked past the town a ways so that I would be able to camp near the road outside of the village, otherwise I risked being fined by the community for sleeping outside like a vagabond. I didn't feel like talking with anyone, and I was worried that more people would recognize me and ask me to help them with something.

            The next day, I arrived in Solitude around midday and headed straight for Castle Dour. Two guards were posted outside the main doors, but stood down as I approached. I supposed word of who I was and what I looked like had gotten as far as the Imperial stronghold, and I walked through the grand entrance and into the war room. General Tullius didn't even bother looking in my direction before he threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

            "Are they just allowing anybody into our private meetings these days?" He cried, now facing away from me as he walked to the other side of the room with his hands on his head. I could feel the Legate's piercing gaze from beside me.

            "What business do you have here, Dragonborn?" She asked, and Tullius turned around in surprise.

            "I'm here on behalf of Jarl Balgruuf," I answered, "He wants to know what your intentions are for Whiterun if you were to win the war."

            Rikke and Tullius looked at each other, thinking of how best to respond. The General took a deep breath and replied in a tone laced with severity only belonging to those who had served in a military position for much of their life.

            "Whiterun is an economic hub, but they're pretty lax on enforcing laws against a few Nord traditions including xenophobia and Talos Worship," He said, "This tends to discourage trade with other provinces that would otherwise happily send exports to Skyrim in greater quantity." Tullius walked over to the military map spread across the table in the centre of the room and adjusted a piece. "We would ensure the dismantling of such issues so that Whiterun is more open to the rest of Tamriel. This includes laws against some forms of speech."

            I thought about what this meant for Balgruuf and his Nord kin. "So does this mean that the Nords living in Whiterun hold and the rest of Skyrim would have to forego all of their traditions so that they toe the line with the Empire?" I asked.

            Tullius sighed. "Basically, yes. If we allowed just a few bad behaviours to slip through the cracks, it's a slippery slope to the mentality that caused the rebellion in the first place," He finished, looking back at me.

            "But wouldn't trying to force them to be something they're not just cause more push back?" I said, thinking that if somebody asked Raven Rock to give up all the Dunmer traditions, who would we be?

            I was getting on the General's nerves and a small vein began to make its appearance on his temple.

            "It's what is best for Skyrim and all of Tamriel," The Legate replied calmly. "People will eventually adjust to the new status quo."

            The apprehension in Rikke's voice didn't entirely convince me that she believed the words she spoke. I had read about similar situations throughout history, and what happened when those in power did as the Imperials intended. The same resulting patterns cropped up over and over. The policies that the Imperials would enforce would lead to more bloodshed as the oppressed sought to overrule the tyranny of their oppressors. Only, the next war caused by the current situation would take on a different name, and would be assumed to have a different root cause. 

            With no further questions, I thanked the Imperial leaders and headed for the Blue Palace, to see what Jarl Elisif had to say on the matter. When I arrived, a small council was in session at her throne. I stood outside the circle with another visitor, and listened to their conversation as Valor followed his nose to the kitchen. The council was worried about a nearby threat, and after the other traveler offered to investigate Wolfskull Cave, I approached the now unoccupied Jarl.

            "Oh, Llenrila," Elisif said, surprised to see me. I didn't correct her. "Or should I call you Dragonborn?"

            "Whatever the Jarl wishes," I said, smiling politely and bowing slightly. 

            "What is the purpose of your visit?" She asked, looking up at me.

            "I am here on behalf of Jarl Balgruuf. He wishes to know what it would mean for you in the case of an Imperial victory."

            "Ah, so you took my advice then?" She said coyly as she leaned suggestively towards me in her throne. 

            "It's not like that at all," I said, holding up my hands. I wished to get back to the point of my inquiry. "He helped me defeat Alduin, and I owe it to him to help Whiterun." 

            Elisif leaned back in her great chair and lightly rested her hand on her chin before continuing. "Well, I would sit on the throne here, so I suppose he could go to the Palace of the Kings if he wished. I don't really have any concrete plans for Whiterun as of yet. I'm still preparing the victory parade."

            I tried my best to hide my dismay at her intentions. She was only thinking of the glory of success, and not what it meant for the rest of the province. There would be a lot of fires that would have to be put out, literally and figuratively. 

            "Well, what will be your first decree as High Queen?" I asked, hoping for a more thoughtful answer this time. 

            "To execute all the Stormcloaks, of course." She shrugged. 

            "Even the soldiers?" I gasped. 

            She seemed unfazed. "Certainly, them most of all. They're the ones responsible for the majority of war crimes." 

            "But they're just common people following orders," I argued, yet at the same time I couldn't help but think of the girl that was defiled by an Imperial soldier. 

            She sighed before she gave me one last retort. "If we don't snuff out the enemy immediately, the likelihood that they will rise up again is too great." She said, shading her eyes with one hand as she waved me away with the other. "Now, leave me be. These heavy topics are stressing me out." 

            The Imperials would see Skyrim become exactly as Cyrodiil, at the cost of both culture and lives. While I agreed that Nords could be more tolerant overall, fighting intolerance with intolerance would only widen the divisions. I knew Elisif wasn't the leader her husband was, but her disregard for the severity of the situation worried me greatly. With nothing left for me in Solitude, I reunited with Valor, who I assumed had managed to get a few scraps, and left for Windhelm that evening, hoping the Stormcloaks may have a broader perspective.

* * *

            The ground outside of the borders of the stone path became soft, and the heavy fog that lay low in the air took on a pungent scent as I walked closer to Morthal. I figured I would stop in to visit Lami and see what became of that burnt down house, and the adultering husband. Morthal was just as grey and depressing as the last time I had been here, yet the locals didn't seem quite as miserable. I walked into the Thaumaturgist's hut and Lami looked up from the inventory she was taking to greet me. She looked a bit worn out, but smiled when she realized who I was.

            "It's good to see you, Lami," I said, walking up to the counter. "How have you been?" 

            She tilted her head to one side and the other before she answered me. "I've been alright. You may not have realized it last time you were here, but, Alva was killed by someone passing through here."

            "Oh no, I'm so sorry," I breathed, remembering how she had wept behind the counter when I was gathering Teldryn. "Were you and her close?"

            "It's alright, well, now it is. I didn't know it at the time but she was actually quite an evil person," Lami replied. "We were close, but only because she seduced me to make it so." 

            "Did she, by any chance, work at the Moorside Inn?" I asked, remembering the creepy barmaid. 

            Lami nodded slowly before she continued. "This may sound crazy, but, I think she was a vampire. I think she used her charms to lure people to her home to try to convert them or drink their blood,"

            I frowned in concern. This was troubling information. 

            "If she was, then could she have infected others?" I asked.

            "It's possible, she never got me at least." She said thoughtfully. "Hey," She continued in a happier tone, "where's your friend? The one I healed?" 

            I threw up my hands. "I have no idea," I said, shaking my head. It was becoming easier to talk about Teldryn's absence. 

            "Well, if you ever need some company, I'm here all the time," She smiled. 

            I smiled back. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," I replied. I purchased a few potions and ingredients and headed outside, where the damp air and the revelation of a potential vampire presence in Skyrim made me shudder. If what Lami said was true, there may be another problem to handle in addition to the civil war. 

* * *

            As I was walking along a snow covered path towards Windhelm, I came across a group of about twenty Imperial soldiers. They stood as if they were waiting for something as they stared off into the distance at a stone tower atop a small berm.

            "What are you doing?" I asked one near the back. 

            "Shh," He replied, "we're waiting for the signal." 

            I continued to pester him. "The signal for what?" 

            He now turned around and looked at me, presumably to tell me off. "Oh!" He exclaimed, after he saw me, "are you...?"

            I had begun to regret the speech I had made at the College of Winterhold. 

            "Yes, I'm the Dragonborn," I sighed, and other men turned around as well.

            "You here to help us?" One of them asked.

            "We're about to attack Fort Dunstad,"

            "We have the Dragonborn on our side!" Another cheered.

            "What? No!" I protested, "I'm not on anyone's side, I'm sorry but-" 

            "You're either with us or against us," The first one said. Suddenly, a fireball sailed into the sky and the men started running towards the fort. I jogged behind them as they drew their weapons, charging to their deaths. Stormcloak soldiers were waiting for them, and began coming down the hill at the base of the tower. 

            I ran on an angle away from the battle, and then directly perpendicular to the direction that the two groups moved. After a few seconds, I turned around to see the impending clash of the two factions. I had to do something. I ran closer to the frontier as the men began raising their weapons, ready to plunge them into their enemies. 

            FUS ... RO DAH

            I shouted straight down the line where the soldiers had just met. Men and women were flung in every direction, falling backwards against their own lines and causing their group to collapse in among themselves.

            "STOP," I yelled at the soldiers as they began clawing their way over each other, trying to regain their footing. "Are you all willing to die out here in the cold, in the middle of nowhere, for a leader that doesn't give a shit about you?!"

            "Yes, we would!" An Imperial soldier was rising up on one knee in the snow. "It doesn't matter what our leaders want, we do this for our own beliefs," He was standing now, and pointed a finger at the nearest Nord. "These Stormcloak dogs believe themselves above the Empire that has taken care of them for centuries."

            "You Imperial elitists think so little of the Nords and Skyrim that you would strip away the dignity of an entire population!" The Stormcloak yelled back. The men began to become unruly again, hurling insults and airing their grievances as they waved their weapons in the air.

            I shouted at them again, but this time restrained myself to one word. It still forced the men to plant their feet into the snow and hold their arms above their face in protection. 

            "What if I told you there was another way to help Skyrim?" I asked, waking closer to the soldiers. "Alduin spent two decades resurrecting dragons. The threat of their existence is still very real."

            "What are you saying, Dragonborn?" 

            "There is a small group of warriors that seeks to eliminate them all, but they need more bodies," I replied. "If you joined them, you would be helping Skyrim in a more meaningful way." I looked at them, trying to gauge how they would react to the next piece of information. "However, you would also become brothers in arms."

            The soldiers muttered among themselves as they kept a watchful eye on their opposition. Most seemed as if they didn't care for much else than justice and revenge against the group they considered their enemy. Until one finally stepped forward.

            "I joined up with the Imperial legion because my life was destroyed by a dragon attack. It killed my family and burned down my house. I had nothing left to lose. I'll join." He announced.

            A Stormcloak now lowered his weapon and walked towards us, standing beside the first man. 

            "I had heard of the legends since I was a boy, and when the dragons started returning, I didn't want to believe it. I joined the Stormcloaks because they," He said, pointing at the man next to him, "threatened my home, but while they may reduce it, they do not seek to destroy it. I'll come as well, and I can agree to put aside our differences until the dragons are dealt with."

            "We owe it to the Dragonborn for defeating Alduin," Said another woman, who joined up with the slowly growing group. 

            A few others from either side walked away from the battle line and stood in front of me. I looked at them up and down. There were an equal number from each side, and they were similar in size. I had an idea. 

            "Take off your armor," I demanded of them. 

            They looked around at each other. "But it's freezing," One Imperial protested.

            "You'll get it back," I replied, "now do as I say, or you can feel the full force of my Thu'um from five paces instead of fifty." I didn't feel bad threatening the soldiers. They would have been used to all manners of seemingly unreasonable demands, and I was only eager to carry on with my journey.

            Wondering what they had signed up for, the soldiers agreed after some resistance, and began removing the pieces of their equipment, shivering in the cold. 

            "Now, if you wore a Stormcloak cuirass, give it to an Imperial soldier, and they will give you their armor in return." 

            "What disrespect is this?" A Stormcloak grumbled. 

            "No disrespect to anyone," I replied, "only respect to your previous opposition. You will be traveling together to the Karthspire in the Reach, and after that you will be living together and fighting together for years to come. It's time you realized that the last thing separating you right now is your attire."

            I turned back to the remaining soldiers and walked towards them. 

            "And what of the rest of you? Are you still willing to die?" I yelled to them.

            "I've fought too long to take the easy way out," An Imperial woman called back. The Stormcloaks that still stood out in the snow nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement. Some were no more than fifteen years of age. War was all they ever had known, and all they ever would know before their lives were snuffed out far before their time. I had no choice but to respect their wishes, lest I became a tyrant myself. Turning around and walking back to the new Blades recruits, I left the others to their mutual slaughter.

            While I learned that the minds of some people just couldn't be changed, I also discovered there were those willing to embrace another option, if it was meaningful.

* * *

            Windhelm was exactly as I had remembered it, only this time the grandiosity I had felt in response to the towering stone walls and buildings was replaced with cynicism at the reasons these structures were built. They didn't stand to bring inspiration to the people they stood before, they were meant to keep those they deemed lesser than, out, like the Argonians that were forced to live together like caged animals in a warehouse by the docks. 

            I passed through the great doors to the Palace of the Kings so abruptly that the guards posted outside only realized what I had done after I was walking briskly through the massive throne room that housed the great dining hall, with a large dog at my heels. They rushed in after me yelling that I was trespassing and threatened me with fines and jail time, but I didnt care. I was here to see Ulfric, and I was pretty sure he already knew who I was, and that I'd be coming some day soon.

            "What is the meaning of this?" The steward bellowed as I approached the throne. 

            "Where's Ulfric?" I asked, continuing to walk through the main hall. The guards were approaching me with their weapons drawn.

            Before anyone could answer, a new voice boomed through the great hall. It was as cold and as deep as the glacial tunnels of Alftand. 

            "What do you need, Dragonborn?" Ulfric said as he entered the room. The guards sheathed their weapons and apologized. 

            "We only heard that the Dragonborn was a half Nord, not..." One of the guards stammered.

            I scowled at him. "A Greyskin?" I asked. They didn't respond.

            "Forgive my guards," Ulfric said as he took his seat in the throne, "they are old fashioned, and a bit ignorant." He waved away the two men who stared at me in disbelief. "Now, why are you here?"

            I shot the guards another angry look before turning to face Ulfric. They quietly left as I spoke to the Nord. 

            "I've been sent by Jarl Balgruuf to ask what your intentions are for Skyrim, if you were to win the war." 

            The Jarl placed his elbow on the stone arm of his throne, and lightly rested his head against several straightened fingers. He contemplated me with an icy gaze as he lazily swung one bent knee away from his hip and back, in thought.

            "Do you hold allegiance to Whiterun, then?" He finally asked, his words echoing through the old stone room.

            "I only promised to help Balgruuf make plans to secure the future of Whiterun," I replied as Ulfric continued to stare at me with steely scrutiny. "He helped me defeat Alduin, and I am in his debt."

            "So your decision is not final, then," He said.

            I knew what he wanted. Having the Dragonborn fighting for the Stormcloaks would grant them with strength both in firepower and inspiration. By convincing me to join him, his victory would be almost unavoidable. What information could I get out of him, first? 

            "Not yet it isn't," I started. "But, from what I can see right now, Skyrim is under the thumb of oppressors that don't value your culture or traditions."

            The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile as his gaze remained fixed on my own. I was reminded of an apex predator; he clearly possessed a cunning and tenacious nature, but it was not wild and barbaric as I had presumed, based on Balgruuf's opinion. Both traits were requirements for getting to where he was, no doubt, and to remain at the top likely meant making use of these attributes wherever necessary. 

            ""Hi kos Ni folaas, young dovahkiin," He said (You are not wrong, young Dovahkiin,). My mouth fell open in surprise. "Don't look so shocked. I, too, learned the way of the voice from the Greybeards," The Nord said, smiling with smugness and some amusement.

            "So it is true then, you killed the old High King," I breathed.

            Ulfric now rose to his feet. "I did, but Torygg agreed to the challenge of combat, and his defeat was not unjust," He said, walking down the steps that led up to his throne.

            "So you're a usurper,"

            "Yes, but only by power and will, not illegal means. I only wish what is best for Skyrim,"

            I backed away as he walked towards me. "And what would that be?" I asked.

            "The Empire has grown weak and corrupt, and I do not trust their ability to protect our province any longer. I intend on making Skyrim a sovereign nation, where Nords come first, and the strength of our people will be recapitulated in our strength as a country." Ulfric paused to let me speak, but I said nothing. "Why do you seem so apprehensive, young Dovah?" 

            I took a few more moments before answering. 

            "The strength of Tamriel lies in the ability of nations to work together, through the trading of ideas and resources," I said, opening the palms of my hands towards him. "Our continent is like a quilt, where each piece is different, but collectively we work together for a singular purpose of improving the lives of all. If you secede and isolate yourselves, it will be difficult for your people to keep up with global progress."

            Ulfric scowled down at me.

            "Their lives are already made difficult by the climate," He said, leaning towards me every so slightly. "At the very least, they will be able to have strength in their piety as I will allow Talos worship. Who put such ideas in your head?"

            "My father," I said, suddenly overcome by a pang of homesickness as I looked away from Ulfric. "He is also a Nord, like you. On top of that, I read a lot of history books when I was young, and I've reached a number of conclusions about how the world works, myself."

            "How, then, does the world work?" The Jarl scoffed.

            "It's...complicated," Was all I could manage at first, but I continued, speaking from my heart as I looked back to the Stormcloak leader. "But collaboration is always the best method of preserving both tradition and allowing progress to improve the lives of everyone."

            I had walked so far backwards that my legs were now pushed up against the long dining table that took up the majority of the open space in the hall. Ulfric was standing so close to me now that I could smell the smoke of burnt hardwood in the fur of his black cloak. 

            "That would necessitate one side requesting to live peacefully with the other," He said, "do you know what happened to the Falmer when they asked the Dwarves for harmony?"

            My eyes shifted away from his, then sideways, and down. I had no answer.

            "My decision is final." He finished, spinning on his heel and walking away from me. Before sitting back in his throne, he turned his head so he could see me out of the corner of his eye. "Stay here at the Palace of the Kings tonight, and join us for dinner. It would be my honour to host the Dragonborn, and perhaps you will get a sense of what I intend for Skyrim." 

* * *

            The smell of roasted venison, freshly baked bread and grilled leeks wafting into my room lured me from my temporary quarters into the great hall downstairs. A few dinner guests had arrived, but there were more to come. Ulfric had invited most of Windhelm, and the Nords mingled with each other, drinking wine or ale and catching up on the latest news. I didn't see a single Dunmer among them. As I plucked a cube of blue cheese from the table, I heard a familiar voice call to me.

            "Indra?" 

            I spun around. "Brunwulf!" I cried, putting the cheese back. "It's so good to see you!" I gushed, giving the big old man a hug.

            "And you," He replied, his hands gripping my arms as we pulled away from each other. "How long has it been? Over half a year now? And is it true, are you really the Dragonborn?"

            I let out laugh. "Yes, unfortunately or fortunately, I suppose. I actually found out when I absorbed a dragon soul on our way back from Robber's Gorge. Did you manage to get Voden home alright?"

            "Well I'm glad to have been an important part of the Dragonborn's story," Brunwulf beamed. "And yes," He continued, his smile fading now, "he's buried in the crypt here in town. What happened to Sigrun?"

            "She's dead now, too," I replied, "she...brought it on herself, to be honest."

            "I'm not surprised. Ah well," Brunfwulf sighed, "I hope they're together in Sovngarde." I nodded thoughtfully as he paused before he continued in a lower voice. "I also wanted to thank you for helping Teldryn. Talos knows he's been through a lot, but it seems like he's going to be alright."

            I frowned at the old Nord. "How did you know about Teldryn?" I asked.

            Brunwulf seemed confused. "He was here a little over a week ago. Did he not tell you?"

            "W-what? What did he say? Where was he going?" I stammered. I could barely form words my mind was racing so quickly. 

            "Whoa slow down there," Brunwulf said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Is there something between you two I should know about?"

            "Yes, we..." I stopped speaking, my mouth agape. I shook my head. "He helped me find out how to defeat Alduin," I finally finished. I knew Brunwulf could sense there was more to it, but he put aside his suspicions and filled me in on his cursory dealing with Teldryn. 

            "He came to see me briefly, wanted to thank me for helping you with the investigation," He said. His hand had dropped back to his side, and now he folded his arms in thought. "He then said he was going to set things right. I think he caught a ship, but I have no idea where it was going. If it's any consolation, he seemed happy," 

            Well, that hurt. At least I knew he for sure wasn't at Leaf Rest. He probably wasn't even in Skyrim anymore.

            "Thank you Brunwulf," I said, looking at my feet. "I just wish I knew where he was going, but he took off without telling me anything." 

            "I'm sorry if he upset you," Brunwulf replied. "He's always been like that, though. I was surprised he stayed with Voden as long as he did. Come now, let's sit down for dinner, I'm sure everyone would like to hear about how you fought the world-eater."

            We feasted on meat and fish and root vegetables, while drinking wine and fruity mead under the light of hundreds of candles. I sat and ate in silence amidst the friends of Ulfric as their chatter became louder and louder with every drink. While I answered questions about what had happened in Sovngarde ("yes, all your favourite Nords were there, no I didn't see Shor, yes, Tsun is taller than an Altmer"), I couldn't stop thinking about Teldryn. Where was he going by sea? What was he so happy about...My thoughts were interrupted by Ulfric standing up beside me and raising a toast. 

            "Thank you for joining us tonight for a brief glimpse at the life all of Skyrim can have, once we win the war," He said slowly and confidently, almost as if he had practiced this speech. Everyone cheered as if they had already secured a victory. 

            "That being said," He continued, "there is still work to be done. As it stands, we are on even footing with the Imperial Legion. What we need now is to make the small pushes that will ensure we have ground for the final advancement into Solitude." He paused. "War talk aside, I'm sure you have all realized we have a special guest tonight. May I introduce the Dragonborn," He said, holding out a hand towards me.

            I cringed inside as Brunwulf ushered me to my feet where I managed an awkward wave and bow as the guests applauded.

            "She has traveled a far distance here to gain insight into what I have in store for our success." He paused again, this time for effect. I wouldn't have taken such a pious and severe man to be so ardently theatrical. "I can tell you I have one concrete plan that I don't see any harm in sharing. I am pleased to inform you now that once I am firmly in my rightful place at the Blue Palace, Brunwulf Free-Winter will take over as Jarl of Windhelm. To Brunwulf," Ulfric announced, holding up his simple metal goblet.

            Brunwulf's face broke into a huge smile as the room erupted in cheers to his name. People were reaching over to take his hand. I looked at Ulfric, who had sat back down and was now smiling smugly towards me. I smiled back in false satisfaction, and raised my chalice in reciprocity.

* * *

            Later that night, as I finished washing my face with a wet washcloth, I heard someone slowly walk into my room. I put down the cloth to see Ulfric had slunk away from the dwindling guests and was now leaning up against the doorframe opposite my bed. Last I saw downstairs, Brunwulf was surrounded by excited Nord locals who continuously forced drinks into his hands in celebration. I supposed Ulfric managed to get away without much suspicion.

            "I have another decree planned that I didn't mention downstairs," He said quietly, having dropped the histrionics. 

            "What would that be," I asked, genuinely curious. 

            "I would name you High Queen." He stated, and I laughed. "I am serious," He said, "you would be at my side in Solitude, where you could have just as much say in the future of Skyrim as I would. While you are young, you are also wise, and being the Dragonborn, the people will listen to you."

            Still smiling, I walked away from the Jarl and chuckled again before I turned to face him. 

            "You never told me your intentions for Whiterun," I said, "but I think I can guess." He seemed disappointed, but I didn't care. I walked to my bed and started stuffing my possessions back into my rucksack. "If I were ever to marry anyone, it won't be for political reasons." 

            "It doesn't have to be," Ulfric replied, and I turned to frown at him. 

            "What else could it possibly be?" I asked, the very idea of forming such a union making me ill, as his odious motives made me angry. 

            "You're not willing to find out?" 

            "No," I finally answered. Ulfric turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps clunking down the hall as his figure faded in the dim torchlight. I finished packing my belongings and left Windhelm that night. 

* * *

            I arrived in Whiterun three days later and went straight to Dragonsreach to gripe about what I had seen and heard from either faction. Jarl Balgruuf sat at his throne, quietly discussing potential security threats with Irileth and Proventus, but welcomed me when I approached him. 

            "So, what have you found out about the potential future of Whiterun?" He asked, as his other two assistants left to attend to other business.

            "Well, the Imperials would see Whiterun become an even stronger economic hub, but they plan on cracking down on Nord culture, and will prosecute Talos worshippers and other pro-Nord or anti-Imperial sentiments. On top of that, Elisif doesn't seem to have a clue about the inner workings of politics."

            Balgruuf leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and scowled towards the other side of the great wooden hall. "Hm, that won't bode well for most of the population, and I can't personally support that. Trying to fit a square peg into a round hole will only cause further unrest, and likely more rebellions."

            "That's what I said!" I exclaimed. 

            "What of the Stormcloaks?" He asked. 

            "Ulfric didn't give me a straight answer, but it sounds like he plans on removing Skyrim from the Empire and fully embracing Nord culture and traditions," I replied. "He also tried to bribe me into siding with him, and he's not above using nepotism to get his way. He tried to convince me to rule with him, I think so that I would turn a blind eye to what he would do here. I assume he would turn Whiterun into some kind of bastion for anti-Empire sentiment."

            Balgruuf sighed. "Well, I can support the desire for religious freedom, but we rely too heavily on trade with the Empire. Our people will either starve or fall behind in technological progress, or both, which will lead to civil unrest-"

            "-And more rebellions" I finished. I agreed with his words. He leaned back in his chair and threw his hands in the air. 

            "This is a mess!" He cried, "On one hand we have tyrannical oppressors and on the other we have backwards ignoramuses that bury their heads in the sand. Skyrim is doomed either way!" Balgruuf folded his arms in discontent. "If I had to choose between an idiot and a tyrant, I'd rather not choose at all," He grumbled.

            A thought suddenly made an appearance, floating above the waves of discourse on which we had just sailed. I lowered my voice before I spoke.

            "What if you didn't have to?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tyrant may not be intentionally malicious, and an idiot may not be wholly stupid.


	3. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the suggestion of putting forth Jarl Balgruuf's name in the moot, Indra unknowingly sparks a third party rebellion that quickly gains momentum as much of Sykrim's residents are refreshed by the prospect of a rightful cause. There are some, however, that are not as enthused.

* * *

* * *

            "What are you suggesting, Dragonborn?" Balgruuf growled, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

            "You," I breathed, "you're the perfect leader that Skyrim needs right now,"

            Before I could say anymore, Jarl Balgruuf had hastily stood up from this throne and yanked me by my arm around the corner, towards his meeting room.

            "What you are suggesting is treason!" He hissed as he dragged me up the stairs. "I'm only allowed to vote in the moot, not put my name forward!"

            "The Jarls haven't agreed on either Ulfric or Elisif," I whispered back. "If I help the Imperials win, Elisif will allegedly take the place of High Queen, but she doesn't have to if the rest of Skyrim believes there is a better option."

            We now stood in the war room next to the doors to the great balcony. Balgruuf waved away the guards posted nearby so we could speak in private.

            "Indra, I'm not sure about this," The Jarl said, wringing his hands.

            I gripped his arm and he stopped fidgeting. "You have a clear vision for what Skyrim needs, as well as the initiative to put your plans into action," I insisted. "All we have to do is get the people to rally behind you, and then wipe out the Stormcloaks, and the moot with be convened with you in favour."

            "I'm not sure if the Empire will agree," Balgruuf said. No doubt his concerns were valid seeing as the Empire ruled from behind a veil of clusters of people arranged in a hierarchy, but at least they upheld democratic processions.

            "If it's what the people and Jarls want, then they have to listen, right?" I replied.

            Balgruuf folded his arms and looked around the empty room. Eventually he turned his attention back to me and sighed. "Alright, I'll try." He said, not without much apprehension.

            I was refreshed with a new hope for the province and felt my spirit lifting. "That's great news," I grinned, "I'll visit each major city and pitch the idea to the Jarls. Maybe I'll also be able to garner some support from the locals, too."

            I enthusiastically patted the reluctant Jarl on the back and he lurched forward with the force of my enthusiasm, arms still crossed and looking somewhat stunned. Now walking briskly out of Dragonsreach and through Whiterun, I decided to head for Riverwood and Leaf Rest to plan how best to approach each of the holds. On my way out of the city, I stopped off at the blacksmith to buy a pot of resin and a brush. The lacquer on my robes was starting to wear, and I'd need to find some time to do some preventative maintenance if I wanted to halt any long-term damage.

            It was a beautiful day and though I walked the path that Teldryn and I had taken on multiple occasions, I couldn't find it in myself to mope over what had been. I had a new purpose now, and the thought of being on my own to fulfill it no longer made me anxious. I came across a few farmers in the field and figured I would run over my ideas with them.

            "Hey, excuse me, what are your thoughts on the civil war?" I asked. The old man looked up and wiped his brow, not acknowledging who I was, which was odd but also a welcome reaction. He and his family must not have gossiped with others. 

            "As long as my family is fed, we have a roof over our heads and we are healthy, I prefer not to think about it," He replied, resting his hands on the end of the handle of his worn hoe.

            "Do you not have any strong feelings about one side or the other?" I inquired.

            "Not particularly," He shrugged. "The Empire seems to have most of it under control, but it would be nice if we could freely worship Talos."

            "How would you feel if you could have both?" I asked. He seemed confused, so I continued. "If Jarl Balgruuf was High King, he would keep the peace with the Empire, but also have a neutral stance about Talos worship, meaning while it would still technically be banned, it wouldn't be heavily enforced."

            The Nord considered my words. "Hm, Balgruuf for High King, huh," He said thoughtfully. "He's been a good Jarl to Whiterun. He would have my support."

            "That's what I thought," I said with a smile. "Thank you."

* * *

            The next morning at Leaf Rest, I spread a map of Skyrim across the kitchen table, pushing aside the pang of nostalgia as I chewed on a rabbit haunch and surveyed the region. I had to figure out which holds would be most willing to ignore Elisif in favour of Balgruuf. Falkreath made the most sense as they were already sided with the Empire, and as far as I knew, had lost many of their citizens in the war so far. It was possible they already held some misgivings about current Imperial efforts. After leaving behind a few unnecessary possessions, including the strange mask I took off the dragon priest in Skuldafn, I gathered some supplies including parchment and left the same day, closing the door to the cozy house full of happy memories.

            Falkreath was a little over a day's walk from Riverwood, and I finally made it into the eerie town late at night. I wrote a quick but large message on a piece of parchment and pinned it to the missive board before Valor and I headed to Dead Man's Drink Inn.

            When I stepped out of the inn late the next morning, the sun had banished the thick fog that had swarmed around my feet the night before. I walked across town and entered the door to the Jarl's Longhouse, which was easy to identify with the two banners depicting the stag sigil of Falkreath hanging on either side.

            While large, the wooden building was smaller than both Dragonsreach and the Palace of the Kings. There was no grand dining hall, as the only structure in the middle of the main floor was a large fire pit, used for both heat and cooking. I had to remember that the only Jarls I had dealt with so far were in a higher position of power, and that this house was a representation of the common people. The Falkreath small council was quietly, but urgently discussing something near the throne at the opposite end of the building. They became hushed, and looked up when I entered.

            I approached the group. "I suppose it was you that posted that message on our missive board, wasn't it, Dragonborn?" Jarl Siddgeir whined, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. "Town Hall Meeting, Middas, 18th of Mid Year. Discussion topic: Jarl Balgruuf for High King if I recall correctly, no?"

            "Yes, Balgruuf has agreed to be a second option for the moot, if the Imperial Legion wins, which I will ensure will be the outcome of the war." I replied.

            "Really, you will, will you now?" The young Jarl sneered, "What experience with war do you have?"

            I was annoyed by his words, but only because I knew I had no proper dealings with battles among men. I was also quite irritated seeing as he was relatively young himself, and from what I heard, wasn't much of a war chief. 

            "I can call on the power of dragons, both through my voice and in person," I said. "I will eradicate anyone that stands in our way." I told myself any lives lost for this cause were necessary, that their deaths were not a direct result of my doing. It was a consequence. Collateral damage.

            "So, you plan on using sheer firepower to get your way?" He asked, contempt in his words. 

            "If that's what it comes down to, then yes," I said. 

            "Well," Siddgeir sighed, "as long as my position as Jarl of Falkreath isn't threatened, then he has my support," He seemed to relax a bit. "I will call the meeting tonight, then. Please prepare some words."

* * *

            The residents of Falkreath had all piled into the longhouse, along with a number of city guards and some soldiers. Their chatter filled the great hall, but they settled down when Siddgeir called them to order. After a brief deliberation, he sent me up to say my piece. I unfolded the sheet of paper with the speech I had spent much of the afternoon working on. Public speaking was not my forte.

            "As you know, the war is reaching a tipping point," I started nervously, addressing the room, "and soon one side will have to force out the other. I'm sure you all have Falkreath's best interests at heart, and as such, seek to protect it. If the war is won by the Imperials, Jarl Elisif the Fair will likely be High Queen. I have met with Elisif on numerous occasions, and can tell you that she does not have the experience nor the vision to see Skyrim through to an era of peace and prosperity." I paused as the residents nodded in agreement and murmured amongst themselves.

            "Jarl Balgruuf, however, has been in a position of leadership for many years and has moderate views that embrace both those of the Empire as well as the majority of the Nord population living in Skyrim. He has agreed to put his name forward in the moot, and I would ask that you support him in his cause to be the next High King of Skyrim so that Jarl Siddgeir's vote for him is justified," I finished.

            "What will the Imperials say of this coup? They want Elisif on the Throne so she can be their puppet!" One resident called out, and before I could answer, a soldier yelled out a reply.

            "Fuck the Imperials, they've done nothing to protect us since the war started. Have you not seen our graveyard? I would fight for Balgruuf!"

            His words must have hit a nerve, as much of the room began to murmur among themselves, mainly in agreement. I was too stunned to interject.

            "Yeah, Balgruuf the Greater for the people of Skyrim!" Somebody else shouted.

            I stared around at the increasingly unruly crowd, speechless. This was not how I had planned things would go. Siddgeir called the room back to order.

            "What? Do you all plan on deserting the Imperial Legion and being executed as traitors?" He barked.

            "I would rather die fighting for something I believe in, than be killed in a war where I'm just another body," A soldier called back.

            Jarl Siddgeir was fuming now. 

            "Enough!" He yelled, "I will support Balgruuf in the moot, but I will hear no more of this talk of some ragtag army fighting against both sides. And you," He said, pointing to me, "I think it's time you left, you've caused enough disturbance here."

            As I made my way out of Falkreath in the dwindling light, I thought about how passionate the soldiers and guards seemed about fighting for something they believed in, but I figured that would be the last I would hear of it.

* * *

            I decided that my next Imperial stronghold stop would be Markarth. Despite its troubled past, the city of stone held power in both numbers and resources, and would mark a key turning point if I could convince Igmund to support Balgruuf. There were no villages on the way there, only damp caves and eerie towers in which I spent curled up with Valor on each of the four nights it took to walk to the ancient city.

            The guards seemed wary of my arrival to the city gates, but let me pass through without a word. Before I could figure out how to get to Understone Keep, a limping homeless man approached me.

            "Hey traveler, ever wonder what all those women are doing way up in that temple of theirs?" He asked me as he licked his lips.

            "What?" I replied, a bit grossed out by the man.

            The vagabond pointed upwards, indicating the tallest peak of the city structures. "There's a temple of Dibella at the top of that staircase and they won't let me in."

            "Yeah, that's because you're a middle-aged man," I said, ready to get on with my mission.

            "It's not fair," He whined, drawing out the 'r', "I need charity too, but I can't get none. Think you could help me out?"

            I thought about the last person I hadn't helped. This guy seemed a bit less desperate, but I figured I should probably start helping anyone I could.

            "Okay, what do you need?" I asked, reluctantly.

            "There are a couple nice statues of Dibella up there," He said, rubbing his hands together. "Steal me one and I'll be set for life."

            "Seriously?" I asked, hunching my shoulders in exasperation.

            "Come on," He insisted, "they have a bunch."

            I groaned, but eventually agreed. Priests and priestesses were trained to disregard material wealth, right? They wouldn't mind a statue missing if it helped a derelict member of the community...

            After casually entering the lofty temple, I silently moved past the priestesses as they communed in prayer around an altar in the middle of the room. The pillars that held up the stone temple were shaped into the curves and clothing of a beautiful woman. I assumed the statues that the homeless man had referred to would be in the back room, as there wasn't anything of the kind in the main hall.

            Looking back towards the the devout, I stealthily opened the doors to the darkened part of the temple forbidden to the public, and let myself in. As I crept about in the shadows, a figure belonging to someone equally as sneaky suddenly appeared before me.

            "You're trespassing back here. What are you doing?" The priestess demanded.

            I stood up straight and sighed as I hung my head, owning up to my bad intentions. "I'm trying to get something to help a homeless guy out," I said shamefully.

            She tsked. "I can't believe you let Degaine put you up to this," She said crossly, but her face relaxed shortly after. "Though I suppose your heart is in the right place, so I'll allow you to make it up to us."

            "How can I do that?" I asked.

            "We need you to find the next Sybil of Dibella," She replied, "she is the next prophet of our gathering, and needs to begin to learn her place here. She is located in Karthwasten, which isn't too far from here. Now, be on your way, and don't touch anything on the way out."

            While I had agreed to this undertaking mainly out of feeling the need to make reparations, the whole endeavour was much more of a pain than I had originally assumed it would be. It turned out the damn child had been kidnapped by the Forsworn, and I ended up having to spend another two days walking to a tower in the middle of the rocky outcroppings that scattered the region, cutting up a couple hostile Reachmen and then escorting the young beauty all the way back to Markarth. I wasn't entirely convinced that the decision I made was the correct one, but had I not gotten tangled up in that string of fate, the girl may never have made it back home alive.

            In a show of gratitude, the priestesses conducted a ritual for me so that I became receptive to the agent of Dibella blessing, making the strikes of my blade, hand, arrows or magicka more deadly to male individuals. I think the blessing did more than that, as I caught my reflection on the way out of the temple I had a fleeting thought that I looked more feminine, though I also assumed it may have have been some kind of trick of the mind. I was not feminine, delicate, graceful, nor seductive. I never had been, and I never would be. With my thick neck, bulging shoulders, and complete inability to succumb to desire for another person with ease, Dibella was the last of the divines I would have ever associated myself with. 

            After all the dicking about in and around Markarth, I finally made my way to Understone Keep to speak with Igmund, who sat in a throne that was protected in an alcove of the huge ruins. I informed him of my intentions, and the old man stared at me for a long while before saying anything. I held my breath.

            "I would support Balgruuf," He started, and I relaxed, "but I need you to do something for me first."

            "Thank you, Jarl Igmund," I said. "What would you have me do?"

            "As you may know, the Forsworn are a thorn in the side of Markarth and all of the Reach, they even murdered an innocent woman in plain day a few months ago. However, we managed to capture their leader, Madanach. Even though he is under lock and key in Cidhna mine, he is still highly suspect." Igmund replied, running his hand along the arm of his throne. "I had a spy, Grisvar, working down there, but he is unfortunately...indisposed of, right now. I don't know what their next moves are, but I have a feeling they are planning something."

            I sighed. "So you need me to infiltrate the mine since they have no idea who I am, right?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

            Jarl Igmund nodded slowly. "I know this is a risky mission, but you are the Dragonborn, are you not? Disposing of a couple madmen shouldn't be so hard."

            Spending time in a re-education labour camp wouldn't be so bad, right? I thought, trying to convince myself that this would be worth it in the long run.

            "If it means you'll support Balgruuf, I'll do it," I said.

            Igmund gave me one final piece of advice. "Use whatever means necessary to deal with them," He said coldly. "I think you know what I mean, yes?"

            I nodded, my mouth pulled into a line of cynical displeasure. Great, I thought, more killing in the name of peace. Typical.

            The next morning, I was made to leave all of my armor and belongings at the keep; however Igmund and the guards allowed me to smuggle in a shiv, saying that I may need it. Walking now in a roughspun tunic and my hands bound in front of me, the guards threw me into the mine, and locked the gate behind them.

            I untied the loose ropes with my teeth, and descended the wooden stairs to the main area of the mine where I found the other prisoners either sitting in the dust, or chipping away at rocks in the caves that diverted away from the open cavern. I noticed a metal door had been installed in the rock, and it appeared to lead to a tunnel, but it was guarded by a large male Orc.

            "What are you in here for?" One of them asked, interrupting my thoughts. Shortly thereafter, he gave into a hacking cough and I turned my attention to him.

            "Just stealing. I should be out in a few days," I replied.

            "Better grab a pick and serve your time then," The old man said, spitting a dark brown clump onto the ground in front of him. "If you don't have any silver to show at the end of the day, the guards will beat you. You can go work where Braig is now," He coughed, pointing in the direction of one of the tunnels.

            I picked up one of the worn pickaxes and walked down the dimly lit path to the stone wall embedded with veins of silver, and starting chipping away at the rock beside an old man with tattoos on his face. I supposed this was Braig.

            "What's your story?" I asked casually as I worked in the dim light.

            "My story, huh?" He grunted, not looking away from his work. "Everyone in Cidhna Mine has a tale. Let's hear yours first. When was the first time you felt chains around your wrists?" He asked.

            "This is actually a new experience for me, but it's not the first time I've been used by those in power," I said. I thought of how Balgruuf, The Blades, Jarls, everyone wanted me to do something for them before they would help me with my missions. It wasn't as if I had a choice in whether or not to complete my tasks, and considering that the entire province was at stake you would think that most would have helped me either out of gratitude, respect or just out of the goodness of their hearts. The only people that ever did such things were my family and Glover. And Teldryn. But he was gone now, so why think about it? I swallowed back the choking feeling caught in my throat and answered Braig.

            "I'm not from around here, but authority is the same everywhere," I replied, and I meant it.

            "So you know what it's like to have your life in someone else's hands. Why should they get to decide? Isn't judgment for the gods?" He asked angrily. I just shrugged, and he continued. "Do you have any family? Anyone waiting for you on the outside?"

            I nodded. "Yes, I have a family, but they're far away, though I hope to see them soon. I also have someone that's dear to me as well," I said, pausing to let the choking feeling subside again, "but he's also far from here. How about you?"

            "I had a daughter, once," He said. "She'd be twenty-three this year. Married to some hot-headed silver worker or maybe on her own learning the herb trade. The Nords didn't care who was and who wasn't involved in the Forsworn Uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, that was enough. But my little Aethra didn't want to see her papa leave her. She pleaded to the Jarl to take her instead. And after they made me watch as her head rolled off the block, they threw me in here anyway, to dig up their silver."

            I stopped swinging the pickaxe and turned to him, wondering whose side I should really be on.

            "That's awful," I said, "she would have been my age. They know nothing of honour." Braig's expression towards me softened. Seeing my opening, I then lowered voice and asked him about the Forsworn conspiracy.

            He replied in a whisper. "Our leader, Madanach, is planning an escape soon," He said, "if you can, go talk to him. You look strong, and we could use more rebels like you. He's got a room past that gate in the main area."

            After we had finished our day's work, I approached the Orc and asked him for passage to see Madanach.

            "What's in it for me?" He grumbled. I had nothing on me except for the shiv. I discreetly produced it and he swiped it out of my hand. "This will do. Go see Madanach."

            I rounded the corner to see an old Breton man working at a desk. He looked up from his work to face me.

            "Oh, you're not Borkul. What are you doing here?"

            "I'm here to assist in your rebellion," I lied. "I talked to Braig, and I understand your reasons for believing in your cause. I also got wind that you're planning an escape, and I'd like to help."

            He stood up. "Very well," He said, resting a hand on his desk. "In three days time, we will leave at three o'clock in the morning, when the guard shift changes. They've gotten lazy about keeping us under scrutiny, and we will use that time to sneak out through the tunnels nearby."

            I nodded and returned to the main hall to go to bed in a pile of burlap sacks, and live out the next few days as a prisoner. I looked down at my hands. A few blisters had started to form, and I decided that tomorrow I would wrap them with what fabric I could scrounge up. No sense in trying to tough it out if I wasn't going to be here long. I gathered up the rough material and curled into the pile, passing out almost immediately. Later that night, one of the men tried to assault me in my sleep, but I woke up and promptly broke his nose, serving as a warning to the rest of them. He rolled around on the floor in pain, blood pouring from his nostrils as the other prisoners grumbled about being roused. I silently thanked Dibella as I shook out the pain from my hand.

            Three days later, at three o'clock in the morning, Braig shook me awake and we crept through the tunnels leading from Madanach's room to the old Dwemer ruins underneath Markarth. I had hoped I wouldn't end up in Blackreach, again, not just because of how eerie that place was, but also because it would bring back too many memories. I followed the escapees through tunnels that comprised part of the old Dwarven architecture, and pre-dated the existence of the city of Markarth. Near the end of the tunnel, a Forsworn woman appeared and handed out fur armor and weapons to the rebels. She turned to me and held out a spare set and I accepted it in an attempt to not blow my cover.

            We exited the tunnels to Markarth where Madanach drove a dagger through the neck of an unaware guard, and the Forsworn walked to the edge of the high parapet of the city. They breathed in the night air, looking up at the sky and relishing their freedom. Madanach turned around to me.

            "What of you, outsider? Will you follow us now to the Reach and aid in our rebellion?" He asked, smiling in the dim torchlight.

            I took a deep breath and let out a choked sigh.

            "I'm so sorry," I said as his face turned from happiness to shock as I unleashed the power of my Thu'um at the small group of freedom fighters.

            FUS ... RO DAH

            They were launched from the tall scarp and fell to their deaths at the bottom of the stone wall. As I wiped my burning eyes, I could hear city guards yelling, and the odd up-late resident screaming immediately after their bodies crunched onto the rocky surface below. I couldn't get my disguise off fast enough.

* * *

            "You upheld your end of the bargain, and I thank you for that," Jarl Igmund said the next morning as I sat in the kitchen in Understone Keep.

            I blinked at him and nodded. I hadn't slept after the events of the previous night, as I couldn't stop hearing the sounds of the Forsworn bodies splattering on the hard rock of Markarth. I had committed premeditated murder in the name of earning power. Didn't that make me just like the Imperials and Stormcloaks, who sent hoards of men to their death in the name of clutching on to what they felt they deserved?

            Igmund continued, "I will vote for Balgruuf in the moot, and I will send as many men as I can to the People's Army of Skyrim,"

            I jolted awake. "Wait, what? What army?"

            Jarl Igmund frowned at me. "How do you not know of the movement that you started?" He asked, shaking his head.

            My mind went back to the disillusioned men and women in Falkreath. What had they gotten up to?

            "I didn't start it," I declared, rising from my seat. "The soldiers were eager to fight in something they believed in."

            "You put the idea in their head, and now that they have a face for the cause, it gathers more momentum every day," Igmund said, pacing to the other side of the room and staring into the cooking fire. "I don't think it's a bad cause, as the Empire really has grown weak. Besides, people of all races and from all walks of life are happy to join if it means that both their separate and mutual interests will be fulfilled. Anyway," He said, walking back towards me as I shook my head in disbelief, "along with my support, here's some gold for your troubles. Where are you off to next?"

           "I'm not sure yet," I replied, "probably Morthal, but I could use a break for now." I took the satchel of coin and left Understone Keep. My only plan for the rest of the day was to get very drunk.

* * *

            Day turned into night as I ate and drank with the locals, listening to their hopes and dreams of what they could do once the war was over. I finally excused myself after the general patronage began to dwindle, and went outside to get some fresh air. Joined by Valor, the two of us walked through the city gates and past the stables, taking in the night sky. I wasn't quite as drunk as I'd hoped to be, but I still managed to put my mind at ease. As I turned around and started walking back towards the city, I heard a rustling sound behind me and I looked back to see what it was.

            A black hood was suddenly thrown over my head, and I was knocked unconscious.


	4. Right Place, Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Empire is catching wind of the rebellion led in Indra and Balgruuf's names, and capture Indra to interrogate her, unfortunately for them she legitimately doesn't know what has been going on. Seeing as she realizes something drastic must be done, she recruits help from an old friend.

* * *

* * *

            When I came to, I was kneeling on a hard floor, and I could hear heavy footfalls directly in front of me. My hands were bound with shackles attached to a rope that held me upright, and the hood was still over my head. Somebody ripped it off, and I squinted around in the candlelight of the cabin where I was being held. An Imperial soldier paced in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back. I had never seen him before.

            "So," He said, still pacing, "you think you can undermine the Empire, and bend the will of its people to your own demands?"

            "What are you talking about?" I asked, dazed.

            The solider walked towards me and, without any prompting, punched me in the face. Though nothing was broken and I was not knocked unconscious, it was enough to painfully rattle my skull. I winced and blinked hard. I could taste blood. 

           "Don't act dumb, Dragonborn. You wish to usurp the throne with your own little puppet, and eventually take control of the entire Empire, don't you?" The soldier asked, kicking me in the ribs. The man holding me up released the rope, and I fell to the ground.

            I coughed and spat the blood from my mouth. "Gods," I breathed, my face contorting in pain. "No, I don't. I just don't think Elisif will make a good leader, and I'm trying to provide another option by having Balgruuf be in the moot. Don't you think this is overkill?"

            "I'm not just talking about the rule of Skyrim!" He yelled in my face, flecks of spit hitting my eyes and mouth. "The High King still swears fealty to the Emperor, but you intend on replacing both, isn't that right? The people would love to have a hero as their ruler, hm?"

            I shook my head in confusion. "No, what are you talking about? Even if Balgruuf was High King, he would still answer to the Emperor,"

            The soldier kicked me again. "There is no more Emperor, because you assassinated him!" He yelled with another kick.

            "I didn't! Stop! I have no idea what you're talking about!" I exclaimed, struggling against my restraints.

            "You hired the Dark Brotherhood to dispose of him, so that the Empire would be weakened and you could strike Solitude with your little army, huh?"

            "I didn't form that army! It's just a bunch of jaded soldiers and civilians, they're not serious!" I exclaimed.

            "I wouldn't call razing an Imperial fort 'not serious', you know." He shouted, standing back up again. "What is your end goal? To start a new era in Skyrim in the name of the Dragonborn?"

            I had no idea what he was talking about, and I had no answer for him as I lay on the ground in pain and confusion. Suddenly, the solider that had removed the hood grabbed me and another forcibly tied a cotton strip around my head, gagging me. Their leader spoke again.

            "It will be bad news for us if we were to kill you, seeing as most of Skyrim considers themselves in your debt," He said menacingly. "However, let this serve as a warning."

            A fourth guard burst through the door, dragging Valor by the scruff. They had muzzled and collared him, and he growled and lashed out through bared teeth, strings of slobber flying through the air as he tried to escape. Through his rage, I could see the whites of his eyes, and the terror in them. The leader unsheathed his short sword and grabbed Valor by the leash that came off his muzzle, forcing his head towards the ceiling. Now I understood why they had gagged me; so I couldn't tear them to pieces with my voice. 

            "This fucking mutt was a pain to get a hold of, you know. Barely let us get close to you. Almost as if he cares about you," The Imperial snarled. 

            Despite the gag, I still screamed bloody murder through the cloth, crying and pleading, as the Imperial looked me in the eyes, and cut the yelping dog's throat with one quick movement of his arm.

            Before the men left the cabin, the leader bent down to where I lay, gagged, tears still streaming down my face as I stared at the blood that ran from the throat of my butchered friend. 

            "Abandon your efforts, or this will only get worse," He hissed.

            Was it necessary to kill an innocent being? How could man be so cruel? Not only to each other, but to every other creature as well.

* * *

            I lay still on the cold, hard floor for an hour after the guards had left, grieving for Valor and trying to understand what was happening as horrible waves of nausea slashed through me as I thought about what my actions had done to the province. Apparently I had sparked another rebellion in Falkreath, and now the Emperor was dead. Was that the doing of the army I had haphazardly created? It couldn't have been, didn't the soldier say the Dark Brotherhood was behind the assassination? 

            What was I being blamed for? How could the Empire find it justifiable to do this to me on misinformation? I had never felt such hatred before, and I didn't know I was capable of feeling such things - burning rage, yet somehow simultaneously cold and distant. It was different than what I felt when I saw the Orc torturing Teldryn. I wanted to track them down and rip their throats out through their necks, then throw their bloody, limp corpses down in front of their families. I did not know how I could imagine such things. I thought that perhaps Alduin's soul made this new desire for vengeance possible.

            As I slowly rose in the darkness of the cabin, my anguish and confusion was replaced with steely resolution and anger. The people of Skyrim didn't care for the Imperial Legion, so why should I ever try to be an ally to them? Their soldiers raped children. They sought a totalitarian regime under their crumbling and corrupt foundations. They would pay for everything they did, and would do, I would make sure of it. What did he say? No. I would not abandon my efforts. If they had already convicted me of being an insurgent, then I would see Skyrim fall into the hands of a capable leader, backed by a genuine movement, paid for with blood. 

            I summoned a fire into my hands, turning the chain between my shackles red hot. I could feel and smell my flesh being burned with the chains, but I didnt care. I could barely comprehend the pain. I ripped the chain apart, my arms shaking in nauseating, residual fury that simmered through me. I then removed the cloth that gagged me, breathing hard through crusted blood in and around my nose. I was more awake than I had ever been. I dragged Valor's body outside and began digging the cold, hard ground, all the while only thinking of my next move. I couldn't dwell long on his loss, as thinking of what had been would only distract me from what needed to be done. 

            The first step was disassembling the pillars of their cause, and I think I knew someone that could help me with this endeavour. My hands were becoming numb and dirt was packed underneath my nails, but I didn't care. I finished burying Valor, the last element that bound me to my life before Alduin, and began walking down a fated path that I would never be able to truly recover from.

            Completely and utterly alone now, I turned about in the dark night, trying to figure out where I was, but there were no prominent landmarks. I looked up at the stars of Oblivion. I had always loved learning about the constellations and their legends, but tonight there was no time for wonderment. I only needed their guidance to orient myself Northeast. A few minutes into the first leg of the long trek, I realized I still had all my belongings and weapons, stuffed into the rucksack and satchel, or sheathed in my holsters that never left my person. Though they took me by surprise, I found it odd that the Imperials hadn't stripped me of my useful possessions. 

            I purposefully stayed off the main paths on my five day walk through most of Skyrim. Despite this effort, I still caught sight of a group of soldiers flying some kind of home made banner near Eastmarch. It had a dull violet background, and a golden lion painted on it. No doubt they had used nightshade to achieve that colour. My stomach dropped when I saw them, and I hid until they moved on. When I arrived in Windhelm, I was immediately apprehended by the city guards and brought before Ulfric, who seemed a little less patient with me this time.

            "You say you want to remove Elisif and have Balgruuf sit in the throne, yet now you've made an enemy of the Empire, and still haven't aligned yourself with the Stormcloaks, is that right?" He asked as he paced in front of his throne, clearly agitated by all the current unknowns.

            "I want what is best for the people of Skyrim, and right now what they need is someone that doesn't plan on facilitating their own extreme views." I argued. I still had no clue as to what kind of bloody end this would all come to.

            "I've told you already, if you were High Queen, you could make decisions by my side," Ulfric said, stopping near me.

            I almost laughed. "You don't want me by your side to help you rule, you want me around to stroke your ego," I said, crossing my arms. 

            "So you would be an enemy to both the Imperial Legion and Stormcloaks, then?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips in restlessness.

            I sighed in exasperation. "I never said I was your enemy," I replied, looking at the ground. I had no desire to make more adversaries.

            "Well, clearly you're not an ally," Ulfric growled, his calm veneer starting to crack. 

            "When can I give you my final answer?" 

            Ulfric stared hard at me. "You have time yet, Dragonborn. The Empire is distracted by your army and the assassination of the Emperor. I will send word to you when the time comes."

            What would I do with Ulfric once the Empire was defeated, if that day came? Best to let him think there was a chance we could be allies, for now at least. I nodded to the Jarl and left the great hall into the cold of Windhelm where I boarded the Northern Maiden to Solstheim. 

* * *

            Stepping onto the pier in Raven Rock, I inhaled the familiar scent of home. I turned my wrists over in each hand, rubbing the wounds that had started to heal and left an itchy scab in their wake. I felt so far away from Skyrim, as if I had left behind the political mess for good. As far as I knew, the rebellion continued to grow in whispers in the shadows, behind closed doors. In two short weeks, a group had become large enough to take over an Imperial fort. Change was coming, whether I wanted it or not, but for now, at least I could let my mind rest in the unchanging comfort of Solstheim. 

            At least nothing in my hometown had changed since I left, as far as I could see. While the crew of the ship only looked at me with some reservation, doing their best not to say too much to me, everyone in Raven Rock greeted me as usual. I trudged the short walk to my small childhood home and walked through the door. My parents came rushing down the stairs and hugged me as I removed my armor. 

            "Indra, it's been so long. Word came that you fulfilled your Dragonborn destiny. Does that mean life is back to normal?" My father said, picking me up off the ground. I was happy to see them both, but I could barely smile.

            "Yes, Alduin is dead, but there's another problem now," I said, throwing on a Dunmer outfit over my loose sleeveless shirt and shorts after my father put me back down. "A third-party rebellion has formed in my name, and they're already taking action against the Empire. Not to mention, the Emperor has been assassinated by the Dark Brotherhood."

            My mother exhaled loudly. "Does this mean you're going back to Skyrim?" She asked.

            "Yes, eventually," I replied. "I have to see this through to the end. The people of Skyrim believe in the Dragonborn," I thought about this statement. It was true, they did. But did they believe in the person who had that birthright? As a young woman who grew up in Raven Rock, who was I to them? 

            "What does this mean for the Stormcloaks?" My father asked, looking quite concerned. 

            "I don't know yet. Ulfric can't have the throne, though. They will do just as much harm to Skyrim as the Imperials," I said and began walking towards the door. "I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll be back later tonight." 

            The sun was setting as I headed to the Retching Netch and sat down at the bar in front of Geldis.

            "Ah, so you're back," He said with a rare genuine smile that I halfheartedly returned. "I suppose that means all is well in the world?"

            "No," I sighed, "I accidentally started another rebellion."

            "Yikes," Geldis muttered, drying a mug. He then looked around the inn, behind me. "Where the heck is Teldryn? Didn't he go with you?"

            I looked at my hands which rested lightly on the wooden counter of the bar.

            "I was hoping you could tell me," I said. "He disappeared right after I fought Alduin, and I haven't seen or heard from him since." 

            Geldis groaned. "That's just like him," He said, "I'm sure he'll pop back into your life after doing whatever it is he's currently doing."

            "Do you think Master Neloth could find him?" I asked, perking up a little.

            "I would imagine so," Geldis shrugged, "although you will have to wait a while for that option. He took off for Morrowind a few days ago, and I'm not sure when he'll be back. He stopped in here on his way, said something about some Great House gathering."

            "Oh well," I sighed in resignation, "I'm mostly here to ask you about something else, anyway. Could I get some Sujamma first, please?" 

            "Coming right up," Geldis said, reaching below the counter for a bottle of his homebrew. "What is it?" 

            "Do you still have any contact with the Morag Tong?" I asked quietly. 

            Geldis finished pouring my drink and slid the small clay cup over to me. 

            "Occasionally I'm in touch with a member or two, but strictly out of friendship, why?"

            I turned the small vessel in a circle in front of me. "Let's say I wanted a target eliminated, and killing this person would help create political stability," I said apprehensively. "Think they would do it?" 

            The old Dunmer's eyebrows twitched in thought as he made a few faces of uncertainty. 

            "I'm not sure," He finally stated, "I'd have to ask them. Who do you want dead?"

            No one in Raven Rock cared much for the politics of Skyrim, so I didn't feel as if I had to lower my voice. I swirled the strong liquor around in my cup before I looked at Geldis.

            "General Tullius," I answered.

            He looked at me without judgment or shock. "Are you sure about this?" He asked, quite seriously.

            I nodded. "Skyrim won't know peace until the war is over and a good, decent leader is High King," I said, staring down at the alcohol as it settled in the cup. "I'm not so worried about the Stormcloaks, but the Empire has a lot of power, and their potential leadership is somehow more nefarious than Ulfric's. I mean, I think Ulfric can be reasoned with at the very least. The Empire is sort of just this...non-contiguous nebula that doesn't seem to have a face, other than Tullius. I think by removing him from the situation, it will make it that much easier to put Balgruuf on the throne."

            Geldis listened to my rant. He had seen this kind of political unrest within the great houses of Morrowind and understood how important proper leadership was. Without someone trustworthy, experienced and willing to do whatever it took to establish stability, there would be more civil unrest. 

            "I trust your judgment," He said, "and I had a feeling it was going to be one of the high-ranking individuals involved." He paused to think. "I will have to go talk to them in person," He continued, "I'm not sure when the next boat to Morrowind sets sail, but when it arrives, we'll both be on it." He then poured himself a small glass of Sujamma, and raised it in my direction. We maintained eye contact as we downed our drinks together. I now understood why Teldryn had been so close with Geldis. 

            After leaving the inn, I walked through town, down past the row of houses where mine sat, and out through the other end of Raven Rock. I went to where the bulwark ended near the sea, and set my gaze down the shoreline. This was where it all started, when I found the spark that would send me to Skyrim to discover my fate. Something towards the point of land in the other direction caught my eye in the dimming light. I approached the pool of water that surrounded one of the ancient Skaal monuments that were scattered throughout the island. This one happened to be close to Raven Rock, and someone had piled a bunch of stones around it. Despite not being of their faith, the Redoran still respected the Skaal, and I was surprised none of them had attempted to clean up the vandalism. I decided to end my walk, and returned home.

            "Hey, what happened to the Earth Stone outside of town?" I asked my parents as I walked through the door. 

            They both seemed confused. "What are you talking about?" My mother replied.

            "Somebody has been piling stones in the water around it." I said.

            "That's odd," Said my father, "I haven't seen anyone over there. They must be vandalizing it at night for whatever reason. I'll talk to Veleth about it when I get a chance. Where are you off to next?"

            "Morrowind. Geldis is taking me to visit the Morag Tong."

            "What?" My mother gasped. "Why? And why is Geldis taking you?" 

           "He used to be in their brotherhood," I replied. "Don't worry, I know him well. He helped get rid of those pirates that were here last year, and I fought alongside him. He's strong and smart; I'm in good hands." 

            "You're not thinking of joining them, I hope?" My mother continued. 

            I laughed a little uneasily, "No, of course not. I'm going to try to secure some leverage from them."

            "What kind of leverage are you talking about, Indra?" My father asked, scowling. 

            "I think you know what I mean," I answered quietly. "Don't worry, by doing this nothing can be traced back to me, and Skyrim will be better off."

            My parents remained quiet for a long time, likely wondering what had become of their daughter, who went from a lively, energetic youth, to a jaded, exhausted and vengeful Dragonborn who was interested in hiring assassins. They were ready for me to walk a heroic path, but were they ready for the repercussions of being someone who held a position of power? My father eventually broke the silence.

            "I don't know what happened to you in the half year you were gone, but I really hope you know what you're doing." He said slowly.

            I didn't know what had happened to me, either.

            "So do I." I said quietly.

* * *

            As we sailed towards Morrowind, Geldis chatted away about his home city. The ship we were passengers on was much larger than the Northern Maiden, and therefore much more stable. The winds were strong and the sun was shining as we stood on the foredeck together. I was happy to have Geldis by my side again, and took interest in the way he enthused about the new capital of Morrowind. 

            "Blacklight is really quite amazing, you know," He said, more excited than I'd ever seen him before. "Much more impressive than any of the cities in Skyrim." 

            "What makes it so?" I asked. I hadn't seen any recent paintings depicting scenery of the Easternmost province. 

            "Well, much of it has to do with the landscape itself," Geldis replied, "There are limestone rocks that rise out of the ground and provide natural barriers and segregations for parts of the city. The city itself is made up of smaller buildings that are almost piled on top of each other. Each part of Blacklight is made up of several layers of housing and shops."

            "Sounds fascinating," I said, "and a bit like Markarth. But if you love it so much here, then why did you leave?" 

            "Sometimes what we love, and what's good for us, are not necessarily the same," Geldis replied, looking out over the sea pensively. "But sometimes they are. Anyway, we can grab some supplies around town, then head inland to where my faction of the guild resides." 

            A day later, we arrived in Blacklight around midday and I found out that the old assassin turned barkeep wasn't exaggerating about the formidable city. I remembered Teldryn had scoffed at the size of Whiterun, and now I knew why. The small rounded buildings, not unlike many in Raven Rock, were built upon layers of hard ground that reached all the way up to the claw-like rocks. Blindly following Geldis, barely paying attention as I stared around in awe, I bumped into someone. I turned around to see a tall Dunmer man with long red hair and a nose piercing that connected to his earring with a small chain, staring down at me.

            "N'chow," He cursed, "watch where you're going, S'wit!"

            I blurted out a quick "Sorry", but he had already moved on, making his way back into the swathes of Dunmer foot traffic.

            "Don't worry about the irks of a lowborn like him," Geldis muttered as the man merged back into the crowd, weaving through the various other interesting characters that populated Blacklight. 

            "How do you know his social status? And why does it matter?" I inquired.

            "By his clothing. It's a similar story as in Skyrim, but it seems to be more pronounced here," Geldis replied. "Those born into the noble families are the only ones whose opinions you need to care about, really. That is, if you see them around. Blacklight is where the largest great house of Redoran calls home, so make sure you don't disrespect any of their family while we're here. Anyway, let's grab some supplies and stay at the Red Dagger Inn tonight."

            The inn sat at a high point in the city, and we could see a few other sections of Blacklight outside of the harbour as we sat in the bar. One area in particular looked as if there was a large gathering happening within it, and I pointed it out to Geldis. 

            "What's going on down there?" I asked, resting my head in my hand, sleepy after our meal.

            Geldis leaned over the table so that he could see from my perspective. 

            "Well, those are the manors of house Redoran." He said, indicating the cluster of buildings lit up with large torches. The houses were obscured by the branches of the surrounding scraggly trees. "They're probably celebrating some event or the other. There are so many of them throughout the year, I've lost track. I used to know them, though, I think there's one on the fourteenth, but the festivities start a day early..."

            I stared down at the manors as Geldis went on. House Redoran, huh, I thought. The largest and most powerful Great House of Morrowind, their influence even spreading to Raven Rock. Probably one of the less sinister houses, too, I thought, at least in comparison to some of the others.

            We left the inn at dawn and began heading down a path that went southward out of town. After a few hours of walking, large mushrooms covered in moss began appearing at the sides of the dirt road. The ash from Red Mountain continued to leave its mark as it coated the large fungi and other greenery. It was a lot like Solstheim, but the sun seemed hotter despite the similar temperature as in Skyrim. I figured it must have something to do with the way the wind blew the ash, creating clouds that blocked out the sunlight back home. Or perhaps we were just that much more vulnerable to the cold winds of the sea. 

            Geldis led me down a path into a thicker forest that began to engulf us in moss-covered evergreens, more lush than I would have expected for this province. The path eventually ended, but the old assassin remembered the way to the hideout. We scaled down a ravine and eventually came upon a hidden grotto. It was a massive expanse that encircled a beautiful turquoise pool of water. I could see doors and scaffolds installed into the rock.

            "Wait here," Geldis said, going ahead without me. "They don't allow outsiders in the actual guild. I'll be as quick as I can."

            I went back out of the grotto so that I was in the sun and lay back on a rock shelf. Minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into several as I waited for Geldis. When he returned, it was almost sundown and I had fallen asleep. 

            "What did they say?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

            I saw Geldis exhale before putting his hands on his hips. 

            "I'm sorry, Indra. They won't help you." He said. I could tell he meant what he said, both the issue as well as the apology.

            "Well, why not?" I demanded, anxiety and drowsiness making me irritated.

            Geldis took a moment before he collected his thoughts enough to form an answer that I would understand. 

            "Even though I came to them as a friend, they're not inclined to act outside of Morrowind," He replied, "even if it means some of the issues in Skyrim may pour over to here." 

            "Right. They're quite traditional, aren't they?" I asked rhetorically as I came to terms with the fact that this was as far as this lead went. Geldis had gone out of his way to help me, and I would be doing him a disservice by trying to press any further. "I understand," I said, "I think I know who I need to try next."

            Geldis crossed his arms. "The Dark Brotherhood?" He asked, sharp as always. 

            I stood up and brushed myself off. "Yup," I said in mock cheerfulness. "I guess I'm going back to Skyrim."

* * *


	5. Memories of Blacklight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Teldryn perspective chapter. We finally learn that he was called back to Morrowind to deal with something from his past. Before he visits those who summoned him, he retraces his old life in Blacklight, visiting places and friends he never thought he would see again.

* * *

* * *

            I stared up at the stars of Oblivion as I shivered on the deck of the ship that sailed towards the port of the great city of Blacklight. A little more than two weeks had passed, and I still thought of her. I had been worried that she may not make it out of her battle with Alduin, but as usual, by dumb luck most likely, she managed to pull through.

            "Well, the world hasn't ended yet, so I suppose you're still alive," I murmured to no one but myself. I was still wondering if I had made the right decision, but my ruminations were cut short by the lights of the Morrowind capital coming into view through the damp fog, and I was able to forget at least a few of my inner troubles for the time being.

            As we sailed closer, the familiar smell of the city came drifting to me with the breeze. It was smoky and peaty, tinged with pungent spices and the scent of the salt and algae that rose with the humidity of the sea. We docked and I set foot on land to begin the relatively short walk to the domed house where my mother still lived, and to which I still had the key.

            Inhaling deeply as I walked, I remembered how much I loved Blacklight after dark. The lights of the many layers of houses and shops rose up around the circular bay and harbour, surrounded by the tall spiked limestone structures that formed throughout the region. Many people were still out, socializing and running errands. Dark elves with partially shaved heads framed around tattooed and pierced faces wore loose, neutral or warm coloured clothing or robes, walking here or there or sitting on the numerous steps that were a part of the foundation of the many layers of buildings, eating curried orange flatbread and drinking herbal tea. 

            Morrowind was all fire and brimstone, red, yellow and black, arid soil, dusty roads, hot sun, fragrant spices and strongly flavoured foods. Many considered it alien and inhospitable, but I, like the other Dunmer from this region, called it home, and loved everything it had to offer. I drank in as much of this city that I had missed for so long before I finally scaled the steps to where my mother lived. 

            The house was dark inside when I opened the door, and smelled of the tobacco she still favoured. A voice in the shadows made me jump.

            "Didn't think I'd ever see you again," my mother rasped through the darkness. I saw the orange glow of her pipe light up in the darkness as she took another puff.

            "I didn't think I'd ever make it back," I replied, putting down my rucksack. 

            "Why did you stop sending me gold?" She asked, lighting a candle so we could see each other.

            "Well, my last patron's wife was a crazy pirate who sent mercenaries to murder me for the past five years, but she's dead now, so no need to worry about me anymore I suppose," I drawled, putting a hand on one hip. I could see her face now, and she frowned at me. 

            "Cut out the sarcasm, Teldryn," She scolded, "it's never been cute." My stomach knotted as I looked at my feet. Even after all these years, I still felt some guilt for getting on her nerves. She exhaled a lungful of smoke and let it drift into her nostrils. "What are you doing here, anyway?" She asked, leaning back into her creaky wooden chair, the arms and back made of smooth branches. I took out the letter and handed it to her.

            "Huh!" She exclaimed. "So they started giving a shit about you again, I see. What about me?"

            "There's nothing about you in the letter, so I assume not," I said, and my mother glared at me. "But I'll see what I can potentially negotiate," I added. She stood up slowly and made her way to the wooden staircase. 

            "Some feeling made me stay up later than usual tonight," She said, turning so I could see the side of her old face, but not far enough that she would be able to see me. "Guess it was you. I'm going to bed now. Make yourself comfortable wherever."

            I looked around the living room space as she climbed the remaining steps to the upper portion of the house. There was only one small room up there, and I had never felt welcome in it. The cot I used to sleep in on the first level was gone, and I assumed she had sold it. Holding a flame up with my hand and looking down at my feet, I saw that the red, intricately patterned living room carpet had begun to fade and was stained with smoke. I turned around in the old house. Wooden pillars and beams held up the stone and mud structure of the outer shell, the interior of which had a few decorative rugs hanging from it. A number of large pillows meant for sitting on the floor were stuffed in a corner beside another natural wood chair and a matching mantlepiece with an intricate hookah pipe on the top shelf. After stashing my armor in a chest, I grabbed a few pillows and lay them out in a line along the carpet, and balancing on them underneath a thin throw blanket, I fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

            The next morning, I rose with some nervous excitement about where my life was headed. I wasn't quite ready to make the trip to my final destination, so I pulled on the Dunmer outfit I had traveled here with, and headed into town as my mother remained either asleep or was reading in the privacy of her bedroom. I had forgotten how much I missed the daily bustle of the streets of Blacklight as I walked along the packed dirt road in the poorer shop district. Vendors were getting ready to open their street stalls, setting out wares and hanging fabric from the wood of their booths to shield their merchandise and themselves from the harsh sun. It was interesting how the mountainous range of Skyrim made for such a different climate over there. 

            Food stands and street restaurants had fired up their stone stoves and had begun to cook their day-long menus. It had been so long since I had had a proper Dunmer dish, and the smell alone had my mouth watering in seconds. I ordered a bowl of saltrice with diced crab meat, steamed hackle-lo and melted scuttle on top. It was sweet and sour and spicy and I wolfed it down in minutes. Food in Skyrim was hearty and filling, but it couldn't replace what I had grown up with. I continued along my walk when I recognized the street I was on. The same short, yellowish beige buildings stood crumbling behind the street vendor stalls, and I came upon the one with the red roof where I had spent so many hours of my youth. I wondered if...

            "Still peddling your shit, huh Nalak?" I said to the man seated at the booth, trying not to laugh. He turned around and his shocked face cracked into a huge smile.

            "Teldryn Sero, are you fucking serious?" The maroon-haired Dunmer laughed, standing up and giving me a hug. "I thought you were never coming back here. Hey! Orvira!" Nalak shouted into the darkness of the small house. The chain that hung between his nose and earring jangled as he turned his head, "come see who just showed up!"

            Orvira was still as stout as ever, and crushed me in her embrace. 

            "I can't believe you're back!" She exclaimed. "Nalak really missed you, you know," She smiled, and her brother gave her a small punch. 

            "Well, I've missed you all, too," I said, "and I've missed Blacklight, more than I thought I would."

            "What are you doing back here, anyway?" Nalak asked, "You're not thinking of joining up again..."

            I laughed and shook my head. "No, those days are over. I've got some business to attend to at the manors."

            Nalak nodded thoughtfully. "Still as mysterious as ever, huh?" He asked rhetorically. "Don't let me keep you from your affairs. If you're in town for a while, stop by anytime."

            "Thanks, Nalak. I think I'll be here for quite some time," I replied, feeling more at ease now with my decision. 

            As I walked away from the markets, I was amazed my old friend had stayed in town doing the same thing year after year for so long. I supposed some people had stronger roots than others.

* * *

            I made the walk outside of town to the group of traditional Dunmer houses that were established inside a wall, creating a fortress of sorts. The guard at the front gate stopped me, but after I showed him the letter with the official stamp, he stood aside. I stepped inside the enclosure, but only took one stride before I realized I had no idea where to go. It had been so long, I forgot how to find my way around the complex.

            "Uh, which one is it?" I asked the guard, and he pointed to the first door on the left, across a wooden bridge. 

            When I entered the house, I was greeted by a servant who requested I state my name and business. 

            "I'm Teldryn, and I'm here to see Sanvyn Llethri."

            The man seemed apprehensive, but his suspicions were cast aside when Serjo Llethri came around the corner and greeted me. 

            "Are you who I think you are?" He asked in a highborn accent, the hem of his exquisite and complex robes swishing along the ground as he approached me. I nodded and he held out his hands, placing them on either shoulder.

            "Welcome home, son."


	6. Diplomatic Immunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will fill you in on Jarl Balgruuf's perspective of the rapidly unfolding chaos in Skyrim that Indra, who is currently elsewhere, is completely unaware of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a brief reminder, Balgruuf originally agreed to put his name in the potential moot. Indra intended on fighting for the Empire to defeat the Stormcloaks, so that when the Imperials came into power, Balgruuf could be High King. She starts by trying to garner support for Balgruuf, so that the pieces fall into place easily later on (i.e. the Empire would be pressured to elect Balgruuf over Elisif, if the majority of the holds supported him). Unfortunately, soldiers and civilians in Falkreath think this means that Balgruuf is opposing the Empire, because it's well-known that the only reason Elisif would remain on the throne is to be a puppet for the Empire, and not truly help the people of Skyrim, especially the Nords. They start a rebellion based on misinformation, and begin gathering momentum by pitching the idea to jaded citizens. At some point, the Dark Brotherhood assassinated the Emperor, and the Imperial Legion believes it had something to do with the Dragonborn's insurgency, which further drives a wedge between the two factions, causing them to attack each other. Unbeknownst to Balgruuf, Indra turns her own views against the Empire, as she views them as cruel and evil, and wants to take away their military power so that their political power will follow, which is why she is trying to get a hit on Tullius. She figures that Ulfric is biding his time and waiting for the right moment to strike, and has some thoughts about potentially becoming his ally later.

* * *

* * *

            "My Jarl, what do you propose we do now? The Dragonborn hasn't been heard from since she visited Markarth." Irileth was standing in her usual position next to my throne as we discussed how best to avoid the wrath of both the Imperials and Stormcloak factions. My own citizens were leaving Whiterun to go join up with some crazy army under our names, and now the Emperor was dead as well. Were the two related? What in Oblivion did that pig-headed girl get us into? I rubbed my eyes. I could feel the bags that had made their permanent residence above my cheekbones growing even larger.

            "Well, for now we need to pull back soldiers posted in other regions back into the city to help with internal reinforcements. Send word to Tullius and Ulfric that I remain neutral and that I have no affiliation with the ragtag group of soldiers that call themselves an army." Things were spiraling out of control. I had no idea where it started, but apparently much of Skyrim was fed up with both factions.

            One week after sending my intentions to Solitude, an Imperial emissary appeared in Dragonsreach, wishing to speak with me. He was a thin, wiry man wearing fine clothing and his long, dark mustache had been waxed. Clearly not a soldier, just some kind of ambassador, but something about his demeanor reminded me of a snake as he slithered up to where I sat. 

            "Jarl Balgruuf," He greeted me smoothly, "my name is Virard Secidicus, and I've been sent by the legion to negotiate terms with you."

            I scowled at the man. "What terms do you speak of?" I asked. I had remained adamantly neutral and was not about to choose a side. 

            Malice briefly glimmered through his narrow eyes. "The terms of your surrender, or defeat." He stated coolly.

            "What?!" I roared, standing up, "I already told you, those insurgents you see on the field fighting in my name were not my idea, and I do not support them!" 

            A sinister smile crept across Virard's face. "That's not what the rest of Skyrim believes. And do you really think your army won't easily be squashed by the Empire when we choose to direct our energy that way?"

            "What are you implying?" I demanded. 

            "In plain terms, Jarl Balgruuf, when the Imperial Legion defeats the People's Army of Skyrim, you will be tried for treason, and your head will be on the chopping block. However," He sang, holding up one finger, "if you prefer your head intact, I can offer you protection...if you help us."

            Frowning, I stared at the man. I didn't believe it just that I would be executed for a crime that I had no involvement in, other than giving my blessing to the ignorant Dragonborn. Furthermore, my people would likely suffer under a new ruler the Empire would establish in Whiterun. "What do you have in mind?" I asked, still wary of the skeeverish emissary.

            "Well," Virard said slowly, now beginning to pace in front of me. "The people truly do want to see you take the Solitude throne as High King, and I believe that can be arranged."

            I was confused. "First you come in here threatening me with execution, and now you're going along with the Dragonborn's plans?"

            Virard had stopped pacing and now stood closer to me. "They're not bad plans, she's just going about it the wrong way."

            "I honestly don't really care for the title," I huffed, "I just want to see everyone treated fairly."

            The Imperial smiled. "Precisely, and that is the perfect mentality of a good leader."

            "Why do you want me involved?"

            Virard chuckled lightly."Jarl Balgruuf, you've been in a position of authority for quite some time now, is that correct? You make executive decisions for your people, because you know what is best for them. Yet, you realize that you can't always impose your own will. Sometimes you have to make certain concessions to keep your citizens, shall we say...placated."

            "Yes, of course." I was beginning to see where he was going with this. 

            "The Empire functions the same way, albeit at a larger scale,"

            Right. I was there to help The Empire secure their hold on the citizens of Skyrim. They would assume their democratic rights had been exercised. I supposed being part of a subversive political move was better than the alternative.

            "So you need me to be the candid face of the Empire, so that citizens will have faith in its hold, and in return, I won't be convicted of treason. Is that all you request of me?" I asked, assuming there would be more to it. 

            "We would also ask that you cut all contact with the Dragoborn. The rogue army is now her sole problem, and will be dealt with accordingly." 

            "That's crossing a line," I fumed. "Have you forgotten she saved all of Skyrim? We wouldn't even be having this conversation if she hadn't put her own life on the line to destroy Alduin. The army was a result of her trying to garner support for having me in the moot, so as far as I can see, the two of us are in this together."

            Virard considered this point. "Very well, I suppose she is still an asset to the Empire, so we can promise that her life won't be in peril, but you must not be associated with her anymore."

            "Can I at least let her know she should tell the rebel army to stand down?"

            "Absolutely not. Do you not realize how much more unruly they will become if their leaders suggest they stop? They believe they have a chance, and they will become even more rowdy if you tell them they do not. I know that look, Balgruuf," The Imperial continued, staring hard at me. "You think it would be noble and honourable to warn the Dragonborn of the incoming pressure from the Empire. You believe you would be doing the right thing, but I can tell you now, you would not.  
"And, to make sure you follow through with our demands, Dragonsreach guards will be replaced with Imperial Soldiers. You will not leave their sight. If you choose to betray us, we will find out, and you will not be given a second chance. Do I make myself clear?"

            At that moment, the doors to Dragonsreach opened again, and about twenty Imperial Soldiers marched in, ushering the Whiterun guards outside. Irileth left my side to relay the message to the rest of her men. I glowered at the man, but I understood. I just hoped Indra would be able to figure it out, and put an end to this madness.

* * *


	7. Pharmakos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indra summons the Dark Brotherhood and ends up back at the Sanctuary, where a deadly ritual ends up with a true servant to Sithis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on in, there will be quite a few Dishonored/Dishonored 2 spoilers, so if you haven't played either or both, then...you should, because it's an amazing series! Or stop reading if you don't want to know what happens ;)
> 
> Also this is a super gory chapter, JSYK.

* * *

* * *

            "Hey, what's all this about?" I asked the guards who had stopped me on my way into the city of Whiterun. And why were they Imperial soldiers, and not the regular Whiterun guards?

            "Sorry, Dragonborn," One said, putting a hand on my shoulder, which I immediately ripped away from. "Jarl Balgruuf has deemed it too much of a risk to be in any further contact with you. Your army is out of control, and he doesn't want to be associated with you anymore."

            Had Balgruuf turned his back on me? What was going on?

            "What? Has he still agreed to be in the moot?" I asked, watching the guards suspiciously.

            "I can't tell you anything more." 

            I was seriously considering shouting the guard into submission to get my answers, but I thought it best for the sake of diplomacy not to add fuel to the fire of the war between the rebel army and the Imperials. Well, my rebel army. I was still planning on taking out Tullius, deposing of Elisif, and then dealing with Ulfric. I needed to talk with Balgruuf, though. After leaving the front gate, I walked around to the North ramparts where a watchtower sat just outside of the city gates. Imperial soldiers were positioned on and around the tower, and I could see more of them in the city. I wasn't going to be able to just climb over the walls to get in.

            What was going on? Why was the city all of a sudden so well guarded and fortified? I had wondered if there was a recent Stormcloak attack, but I hadn't heard anything about it. I decided it would be best to head back to Riverwood, and see about finding a way to contact the Dark Brotherhood. I was going to get rid of the Empire, whether I had Balgruuf's blessing or not.

* * *

            Back at Leaf Rest, I put down the copy of A Kiss, Sweet Mother I had found in Esbern's massive collection of books and started to get undressed for the night. If I wanted to summon the Dark Brotherhood for an assassination, I would need to find the supplies necessary for doing so. An effigy of human bones, human flesh and a human heart, as well as nightshade and a dagger. The latter two were not difficult to find, but whose bones and flesh was I going to use? I suppose it made sense in a twisted way that I was required to murder someone in order to ask for another kill. I thought about how this must be the way Sithis operated - his form of checks and balances. 

            My armor now sitting in a pile beside the bed, I walked down the halls to the kitchen and lit a fire to roast the rabbit I had caught on the way here. Just as I hadn't been bothered to light most of the candles in their sconces, I couldn't force myself to make something requiring care and attention, like rabbit stew. This house brought me so much joy, and yet so much pain. I still hadn't gotten Teldryn out of my head, and out of my heart. We hadn't even been together as something more than companions for long, yet his presence had had such an impact on me, for some reason. What in Oblivion had I been to him, then? I suppose he just flew away to pursue his next adventure, his next patron, his next... who knows. The fire that charred the flesh of the skinned animal lit up the otherwise dark room, and I sat in a nearby chair to watch the meager fat from the rabbit sizzle and drip into its flames. 

            The next morning, I gathered up some supplies before leaving to kill some unsuspecting victim. I knew of a bandit hideout near Riverwood, and casually walked up to the bridge that ran across the stone path. I could hear the outlaws shouting that someone was on the road, and they let loose a pile of boulders intended to crush me. I ran to the side of the path and took out my bow, hiding behind a tree. After the zing of the first arrow went flying past where I stood, I nocked an arrow and left the cover of the trunk, letting loose my string and striking the intended target. I knew the other bandit didn't have a bow, and I stepped out to confront her. 

            "Just leave and I won't kill you," I called out tiredly, drawing another arrow. I could see her piercing glare from twenty paces away, but she turned and ran, up the side of the mountain. 

            I approached the dead man with no small amount of dread. Cutting open animals had been something I was comfortable with since I was old enough to fire a bow, but this was completely different. How had this man's life gone so sideways that he ended up here? I could have almost laughed, if it were not so disgusting. The inside of a bristleback smelled terrible, yet this day I learned that the inside of a human smelled even worse. 

            I took off some of his armor and covered his face before turning my attention to the rest of his body. His heart was still beating when I cut it out of his warm chest cavity, blood spurting out of the severed artery as the muscular triangle contracted and eventually went still. Gods, ribs were hard to cut through, I thought. At least I didn't have to tie a string around the inner part of his asshole to stop his shit from leaking out into the body cavity as I had to do with large game. After all, I had no need to disembowel him. Not knowing exactly which parts of a person Sithis preferred, I sliced chunks of flesh out of his legs and arms and rolled up his bits in a rabbit pelt, adding the bloody package to my rucksack that contained the other necessary items, including parts of a skeleton I had found in a bear's den on my trek here. Human skin was a lot tougher than I had imagined it would be, seeing how easily a blade sliced a cut in any exposed region, yet it was quite difficult to saw through deep enough to rip out the muscle in an intact piece. I looked down. My hands were covered in blood. After wiping them on the grass of the hill I stood atop, I took my haul to the nearest cave I could find, as I would not desecrate Leaf Rest with such a ritual. I lay the bones out and put a ring of candles around them. 

            I knelt on the ground and performed the ritual.

            "Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." I murmured, stabbing the heart as it turned purple with nightshade. It felt like I was talking to myself.

            I wondered where the Dark Brotherhood would send their assassin, if they sent one at all. I decided that I would stay where I was, to increase the chances of them finding me. Is that not how it worked? How did they know who was summoning them? I repeated the Sacrament every day for seven days. The meat had begun to rot, and the nightshade was tattered and withered, but Sithis had listened.

            When the Dark Brotherhood sent their member a week later, I could feel his presence before I saw him. It was the middle of the night, and I awoke to a shadow creeping across the ground and along my neck. I hadn't left the cave since performing the Sacrament for the first time; I had lived in this dingy space, eating smoked bear haunches and keeping the fire burning the whole time. His face came into view in the soft glow of the hot coals.

            "It's you," I breathed, rising from my bedroll. 

            "We meet again, Dragonborn. Only this time, it's you that is in need of assistance," He said, stepping closer to me. The boy had seemingly aged five years since I had first met him in Solitude. Perhaps he was never that young to begin with. Perhaps Sithis had given him strength...He interrupted my thoughts with a question. "Who do you want dead?" He asked. 

            An intrusive thought crept into my head. "What if I have more than one target?" I inquired.

            He took a moment to consider my request. "I can provide one kill," He said, "and seeing as you spared me in Solitude, consider it a favour. However, if you have more than one name, then that will be up to the Night Mother to decide."

            "Is the Night Mother the one mentioned in the Sacrament?" I asked, "Who is she?"

            "Yes, and nobody truly knows," The boy answered. "Some say she she was a Dunmer woman who went mad after Sithis whispered to her from the Void, and sacrificed her children to him. Some say she was a member of the Thieves Guild, and others say she was Mephala incarnate, bride of Sithis. Perhaps all stories are true. She is the one who hears our summons, and informs the Listener as to which contracts should be taken."

            "Are you the Listener?"

            The boy shook his head. "No, not me, but the girl who hears the Night Mother is part of our family."

            "So, how do I know if the Night Mother will accept my request?" I asked, putting on my armor.

            The dark-eyed boy remained silent for some time before speaking. "That I don't know. What I do know is that I trust you enough to invite you to come with me, and you can ask the Listener yourself."

            I frowned at him. "Where are we going?"

            "To the Sanctuary." He replied, very matter-of-fact.

            "Wait-" I said as the boy turned around. He looked back. "Who performed the Black Sacrament to assassinate the Emperor?"

            "I don't know," He answered, "I didn't take that contract."

            I packed up my things and followed the strange boy out of the cave. As we stood together in the darkness, he paused for a moment, and suddenly a gigantic black horse appeared from the shadows. It had red glowing eyes and plumes of smoke poured from its mane and tail. I jumped backwards in surprise.

            "This is Shadowmere," The boy said, gently stroking the beasts nose. "The old guild leader left him to me. He's faster and quieter than any other creature." He hauled himself onto the intimidating steed and beckoning me to do the same. "Come on up," He said cheerfully, "he's friendly."

* * *

            I clung to the kid's waist as we flew through Skyrim. He didn't clarify that the horse was completely silent. Did enchanted horseshoes exist, or was it just the intrinsic magic of an animal born in the Void? Either way, I was thankful as we didn't run into anyone, and people we passed in the distance didn't even seem to notice us, almost as if we were invisible. Moreover, I miraculously wasn't sore from the continuous ride. We reached Dawnstar by nightfall the next day, and went down the shoreline past town, eventually reaching a nondescript cave. 

            "What's your name, anyway?" I asked the boy as we dismounted, my voice partly drowned out by the lapping of the cold waves against the beach. Shadowmere shook his mane and melted into the night. 

            "Aventus Aretino," He replied, setting a torch ablaze. "You?" 

            "Indra...though most people just call me 'Dragonborn'," I said with some bitterness. 

            "The Dragonborn doesn't have a last name?" Aventus asked, and I thought I saw him raise in eyebrow in the dim light he held. 

            "Well, my mother never took my father's last name, but the circumstances of my birth were pretty interesting, so they gave me a middle name that sort of serves as my last name, at least on paper. So technically I'm the first of my name," I shrugged.

            "That doesn't make any sense," Aventus chuckled.

* * *

            "Who did you bring home with you?" I heard the voice of a young girl ring out, echoing across the stone as we entered the Sanctuary.

            "Don't worry Babette, it's just the Dragonborn," Aventus replied. "She spared me in Solitude, remember? Besides, we need to work on expanding our family, and wouldn't it piss off those royal idiots if we had the Dragonborn with us?"

            I stopped walking in surprise. Was he intending on inducting me into the Dark Brotherhood?

            The little girl laughed. I could see her eyes glowing in the dim light of the damp and cold underground structure. "I've heard you've been causing some trouble for the Empire, huh? Is that why you're here then, to help your cause along?" She asked as her small figure emerged from the darkness.

            "It's true," I sighed, "but it wasn't intentional. And in a manner...yes. Both factions will lead Skyrim to ruin, but Balgruuf will actually help bring positive change-"

            "That's what they all say," Babette said, cutting me off and walking away.

            "Come on, Indra," Aventus beckoned, "it's time to meet the Listener and the Night Mother."

            I followed the young recruit further into the underground cavern which eventually opened up into a large room. A stained glass window of Sithis stood above the dining hall, and banners with a black handprint painted on them hung from walls. I could hear the screams of torture victims echoing through the halls from a room further in the Sanctuary. I had hoped they were Imperial soldiers.

            Aventus led me to a smaller room that housed an open sarcophagus, and a young girl knelt in front of it. The coffin revealed the old and shriveled, but well-preserved, body of a woman. The girl was staring at the mummy, totally enraptured.

            "The Listener is currently communing with the Night Mother," Aventus quietly informed me. He gave her another moment before he softly interrupted what appeared to be a trance. "Runa, she's here." He said. The girl continued to stare at the ancient corpse for another few seconds before turning her attention towards us. 

            "The Night Mother told me you would be coming," She stated calmly, standing up and brushing off her knees. 

            "How did she tell you?" I asked, as I hadn't heard anything come from the sarcophagus. 

            She looked back at the woman. "Only I can hear her. She chose me to be the one to listen to her-"

            "Which I am simultaneously happy about, yet I also feel such sadness that mother didn't choose me," A theatrical voice rang out. It belonged to a short man wearing what appeared to be jester's clothing, who had appeared in the room. "Listener told me you would be coming soon, oh yes, and we are just so honored to have the Dragonborn in our, hm, humble abode."

            "This is Cicero," Aventus said, "he's the Night Mother's keeper. He's also been a pillar of the Dark Brotherhood for many years."

            The strange man removed his two-pronged hat and gave me an exaggerated bow. 

            "Pleased to meet you, Dragonborn. I take it you will be here for some time? Listener said you...belonged here." 

            That was an odd notion, and one that ran a chill up my spine. 

            "Well, I wasn't necessarily planning on it," I replied, "but I'm up for anything if it means getting to my targets."

            A tall, handsome Redguard, with piercing eyes and wearing a traditional outfit had now appeared in the room, and also welcomed me. 

            "You could join us, if you want," He said. "My name is Nazir, and the girl you met on your way in is Babette. We would be happy to have you be part of our family."

            I had already come this far. Why not learn the art of killing for myself? 

            "Well, I don't see why not," I shrugged. "What do I need to do?" 

            "You just need to prove your loyalty," Nazir replied. "Come, I'll show you to where you'll be staying." 

* * *

            Over the next few days, I got acquainted with the Brotherhood members, and started to settle in with the family. While they offered me a set of armor, I politely declined their generosity as I hadn't been sent on any missions yet, and had no reason to wear it. I finally got to know Nazir and Babette a little better, and began appreciating their dark humor. Aventus and I had become closer as well, and I spent every evening sitting on his bed and chatting with the strange kid. 

            "So what made you decide to join the Brotherhood anyway?" I asked one night as we shared some taffy candy. 

            "It all started when my mother died," He began. "Since my father was also gone, Ulfric sent me to live at the orphanage in Riften. The headmistress, Grelod, was really cruel; she used to beat myself and the other kids, and we often went without dinner." 

            "That's awful," I said, "I can't imagine why anyone would abuse children. You're all innocent."

            Aventus laughed lightly. "Well, I was, but then I escaped back home and performed the Black Sacrament. Then I heard that one night at the orphanage, another kid got up in the middle of the night, grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed Grelod in her sleep. Everybody said the trauma and stress made Runa sleepwalk and do it. When I found out Grelod was dead, I rushed back to the orphanage to see my friends. A few nights later, I woke up and felt something strange. I looked up to see a person dressed in black talking to Runa. The next day she said she had to go somewhere, and asked me to come with her because she was scared. We ended up at the old sanctuary near Falkreath."

            "How did you know where to go?" I asked incredulously. This apparent magic of Sithis seemed darker and more powerful than a typical Daedra.

            "Runa did," Aventus answered through a mouthful of sticky candy. "She said she was following the same whispers that told her to kill Grelod. Turns out it was the Night Mother. A lot of things happened back at the old sanctuary," He paused and swallowed, "but I believe we are on the rightful path now."

            I peeled off another string of taffy, smiling a little. "You don't have any reservations about being part of a group of assassins?" I asked, shoving the candy in my mouth. 

            The boy sighed. "Strangely, no. I've always been an outsider in society. I was homeschooled and never had any friends growing up, and I don't have any siblings. My family was well off, so I never had to work. When my parents died, I had nothing. Runa and the other orphans were the only friends I've ever had, and I wanted to make sure other kids like them would never be hurt like we were, which is why I joined the Brotherhood."

            "Well, I'm glad I let you go in Solitude, then," I smiled. "I can be your friend, too, if you'd like." 

            Aventus returned the smile, and we bid each other goodnight.

            That night I couldn't sleep, probably from all the sugar I had just eaten, and so I got up to wander the sanctuary. A place like the Dark Brotherhood headquarters during the day would have made my skin crawl a year ago, but now I enjoyed just how much creepier it was at night. Suddenly I realized I could hear a voice coming from the Night Mother's room. I crept towards the entrance and listened to Runa's end of her conversation with the woman.

            "Yes...Right...What needs to be done, then?...I can't do that...But he's my friend...Are you sure about this...Of course."

            It seemed almost as if she didn't want to heed the Night Mother's words.

* * *

            The next morning, Runa seemed somewhat upset. She was picking at the food in front of her, and kept staring off into space. For the rest of the day, she moped around the Sanctuary, barely taking any joy in the torture Nazir was inflicting on the current victims. Something was up.

            "Runa, is something wrong?" I asked when we were alone. 

            "No, it's just...the Night Mother told me we have to do something, but it involves someone I know. But she also said it's the only way to make Sithis stronger, and therefore make us stronger."

            It wasn't my business to pry, but maybe I could at least get her to consider whatever she had on her mind in a different way. "Do you think it's the right thing to do?"

            "Of course, it has to be, but I don't want to do it." She said quietly.

            "I suppose it's up to you in the end," I offered, "but if you believe you have a duty to fulfill to the Night Mother, then..."

            She looked down, but nodded. I kept a closer eye on her that day.

            Later that night, I was looking over the few books kept in the Sanctuary, when I saw Runa approach Cicero in the Night Mother's room, and whisper something in his ear. He began laughing in his usual shrill tone, muttering "oh, yes," as the girl continued to speak to him. When she finished she looked morose as Cicero continued to laugh. I pretended to be busy with the book I held as he swept past me, and then I joined Runa in the room. She was crying. 

            "What's going on?" I asked her. I could hear the echoes of Cicero's voice ringing throughout the Sanctuary.

            "I have to do it. It's the only way Sithis will continue to help us." She sobbed.

            "Have to do what?" I pressed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

            Moments later, Cicero appeared in the room, dragging Aventus by the collar, with the rest of the Brotherhood members in tow.

            "Is it true, Runa?" Nazir demanded, looking terribly concerned. Runa sobbed even harder and nodded, burying her face in her hands. 

            "Then we can't deny Mother then, can we?" Cicero asked, shackling Aventus's hands in front of him.

            "Hey!" The boy cried, "what are you doing?" 

            "Wait, maybe there's another way," Babette interjected.

            Nazir piped up now, "Cicero, let's talk about this," he said, walking further into the room, followed closely by Babette.

            "Talk? Talk about what? How the Night Mother sees everything we do and that if we don't fulfill her wishes, it will be the old sanctuary all over again? Hm?" The jester chided, holding a now squirming Aventus. Cicero led the young man to the stone slab in front of the Night Mother and kicked out his knees, forcing him to the ground. 

            "What are you doing with him?!" I shouted, running towards them, but Nazir stopped me. 

            "Cicero's right," Runa wept, "the Night Mother said Sithis will curse us again unless he has a servant. He wants Aventus."

            "Wait! There has to be another way!" I yelled desperately, struggling against Nazir.

            "I don't think that's possible. It has to be done." Nazir said, holding me tightly. 

            Cicero tied the boy's shackled hands to a metal ring on one wall, and bound his feet with a rope. Nazir still held onto me. I tried to get away, but the Redguard was much stronger. 

            "Mother says her husband wants a child. But not just any child," Cicero drawled, producing a small blade. "Apparently this one is special," He began walking towards Aventus.

            "No!" I cried, "Stop! Runa! Make him stop!" I was kicking at Nazir now, my arms becoming bruised as I tried to tear away from his grip.

            I saw the panic in Aventus's eyes, and Runa lying on the ground in tears. Babette turned away. I heard Cicero's maniacal laughter, and then I was knocked unconscious. 

* * *

            I awoke where I had fallen, my head throbbing and my vision blurred. Blood was smeared across the stone where Aventus had lain, dark and dry in the low light of the wall sconces. The candles arranged around the altar and Night Mother had burned down, and were now solidified puddles. I got up and wandered around the Sanctuary. Nobody was around, except Runa, who sat on her bed, her eyes red and puffy. 

            "Why?" Was all I could utter. She only shook her head. "Did the Night Mother say you had to do this?" I asked, and she nodded. 

            She took a deep, shaky breath, but didn't look at me. "Our family was almost torn apart back in Falkreath because the old leader didn't respect the Night Mother, and wasn't true to Sithis," She said.

            I didn't know what to say. Hadn't I encouraged her to follow the directions of the Night Mother? 

            "I'm leaving this place," I declared. My mouth tasted awful. Had they given me something to keep me under? I returned to my room to gather my things. Once again, my plans to get to Tullius, and perhaps Ulfric as well, had been interrupted.

            The rest of the Dark Brotherhood had taken Aventus's body to the sea, to release him into the closest thing to the Void on Nirn, and I found them returning as I left. 

            "I'm sorry," Babette said, "he was our family, too."

            "Why didn't you try to stop him?" I asked.

            Nazir spoke this time. "We all almost died in Falkreath, because we were on the wrong path. Aventus's death was not in vain. The Night Mother knows best," He said, with a slight amount of bitterness.

            Cicero's small, jittery figure appeared in the light of the torches. All of a sudden, I was filled with boiling rage. It didn't matter that Aventus was meant to die, the small man had taken joy in slitting his throat. 

            "YOU" I roared, running towards the jester and knocking him to the ground. "You wanted to kill him! You're a monster!" Nazir and Babette grabbed my arms to stop me from pummeling the strange little man.

            He started to laugh as he rose from the ground. "Am I really a monster? Or am I merely a humble servant to the Dread Father? Am I right to assume that it's not as if you've never taken a life before, hm?" He asked. I remained silent as he continued. "Don't you think those people had friends, too? Oh yesss, friends, friendly friends, and family too." Cicero said, laughing again. His voice took on a menacing tone as he left me with a final message. "Before you go accusing me of being a monster, take a look at yourself, first."

            I supposed he was right. The bodies were stacking up against me. Killing had become easier, as it became a means to an end that I wanted to work in my favour. I had convinced myself that my way was the best way. The only way. It had to be, right? I only had good intentions, I knew what needed to be done to help the province...

            As I stood in contemplation on the dim shore of Dawnstar, the three assassins retreated to the Sanctuary, leaving me alone in the dark. The dim, blue glow of the sun was barely detectable on the horizon when I left the small Northern town.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pharmakos" is the name of a ritual scapegoat in ancient Greece. Some kind of social outcast was sacrificed during a period of crisis as a means of purification.


	8. Teldryn Llethri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teldryn begins to settle into his new life.

* * *

* * *

            "Right, well, I'm sorry for all the trouble you've been through," Sanvyn said, looking me up and down, "but with your pardoning officially accepted by the council, you're back to being a Llethri," He finished, leading me by my shoulder deeper within the manor. 

            "Excellent," I replied, remembering how much I enjoyed my time here as a child. I allowed the feeling of elation at being reinstated in House Redoran to offset the dejection I had faced for many years, but had finally come to terms with. It wasn't my fault I had been kicked out; it had been Sanvyn's, and now he was welcoming me back with open arms, as I was sure he must have wanted to, for a long time. "What sort of responsibilities do I have now?" I asked. I was eager to begin having some influence in the council, where I now knew I belonged. I had enjoyed my warrior days, which had ended with a bang, but I was older now and it was about time I started a real career, especially one that I knew I would excel in, what with all my years of experience in the field. Maybe I would even settle down, here, one day.

            "Well, for now I suppose we need to get you in shape for council sessions. That means looking and playing the part of a true Dunmer noble," He said, then inhaled sharply. "Other than that, your formal welcoming will be announced on the fourteenth of next month, at the next seasonal celebration." My father slowed his step and squeezed my shoulder. "I really am glad you're back, you know. I found it difficult when you and your mother had to leave."

            "Speaking of which," I said, "is there any possibility she could have her old job back here, again? Or at least be able to stay with me?"

            My father remained silent for a moment, mulling over my controversial question. "That...will have to be decided at a later meeting." He eventually said, rather apprehensively. "Anyway, for now, let's get you acquainted with the manor."

            We walked through the labyrinth of domed rooms, most of them personal chambers that branched off main sitting rooms, dens and small dining areas, the Dunmer architecture akin to my mother's house. We eventually reached a chamber that had clearly been used for storage up until recently. A few crates were piled in the corner, and a large bed took up a quarter of the room. Banners with the symbol of Lorkhan hung from the walls, a small loveseat sat opposite the bed, and a desk had been pushed against a bare wall in a small alcove.

            "This is your space. Sorry about the mess," My father apologized, "but we weren't sure when, or if, you were going to show up. Come to the dining hall for dinner at five o'clock sharp, and you can meet the other residents. Oh," He said, stopping on his way out of my room as if he were remembering something important, "and make sure you shave your mohawk by then. That's not a traditional style."

            "Wait, really? Is it that offensive?" I asked, running a hand through my thick shock of dark hair.

            "It's not so much that it's offensive," My father said, wrinkling his nose, "it's just, not in line with the aesthetic values of nobility."

            So, I was nobility now. I supposed that was as good a reason as any to change the appearance I had maintained since I was a youngster. Besides, it was just hair, it would grow back, and what respectable man over thirty still wore a style like this? A fresh razor had already been set out beside the full washbin, and I trimmed my straight, rough hair that stuck up on its on accord, down to the length of the rest of my skull. I ran a hand over my freshly shaven head as I looked around the room. I hadn't brought anything with me other than my small money satchel. My sword had been lost in Alduin's neck, and my armor was back at my mother's house. A set of robes had been laid out on the bed, and I assumed I was to don my new uniform. 

            There were so many layers, and it took me quite a while to figure out which order they went, exactly. I hadn't ever worn anything so elaborate, even when I was here as a child. When I was finally finished, I stuck my head out the window to look at a large sun dial in the garden, and saw I had about five minutes left before I was to head to the next building over for dinner. As I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the large polished metal mirror near the desk, and I barely recognized my own appearance.

* * *

            Despite being on time, I found I was the last one to take my seat at the grand table with the other House Redoran nobles. I sat down in the last remaining seat next to Sanvyn's wife, Alvulsa, on one side, and a young woman on the other. She looked as if she was about Indra's age. My breath caught as the thought of her abruptly made it's appearance in my mind. I was even more surprised by the feeling that shot through my chest shortly thereafter. Every time I had recalled our time together it was because I was logically following the train of memories that had come before and after certain events, and never as spontaneously as just then. I was assured that I only needed to focus on my new life, and those feelings would eventually dissipate as they usually did when I began feeling close to someone who would eventually separate themselves from me either through dismissal or death.

            I nodded to both of them as I sat down. Alvulsa graced me with a brief, cool glance. She didn't much care for me, not after she had found out what had gone on between her husband and a maid. I'm fairly certain she was the one that pushed to get my mother and I kicked out.

            "Teldryn," Alvulsa said aloofly, "this is Nulara Sarethi. I suggest you become acquainted, as this will be your seat every night."

            I turned to my right and greeted the woman, who smiled demurely and bowed her head slightly.

            "Pleased to meet you," she said. "It's nice you were finally able to return."

            I smiled back at her. She was quite attractive - her long black hair was secured at the nape of her neck in an elegant hairstyle, framing a classically beautiful face. She had a petite, feminine frame and I could see her soft curves cinched beneath her dress.

            "I'm glad to be back," I said, thinking that I wouldn't have ever met her here when I was young, seeing as she probably wouldn't have been born by the time I had left. "I had no idea I would be welcomed to this extent," I remarked, reaching for a flask of Sujamma that had been placed in the middle of the table, and then pouring myself a thumb.

            "House Redoran can be harsh," Nulara said, her voice soft and elegant, "but they can also be forgiving. Anyway, we should be quiet now, the prayer is beginning."

            When I was a boy, I ate and slept in the servant's quarters, and hadn't realized the commitment to the Redoran values that were recited at every dinner. Putting down the flask of Sujamma, I glanced around as the other nobles bowed their heads and closed their eyes. 

Boethiah. I take up the weapon of honor; to serve myself, and my family.  
Mephala. I wear armor of gravity; enveloping me, ever reminding me of the consequences of life.  
Azura. I hold the shield of piety; the gods protect me, and I am their servant.   


            It would take me hearing the prayer several times before I would remember all the words. Nulara turned to me as our meals of kwama eggs dusted with shredded scrib jerky and sides of fragrant saltrice were distributed throughout the table by the servants.

            "So, what did you do all those years you were gone?" She asked, resting her chin on the tops of her hands.

            I swallowed the sip of Sujamma I had drank from the elegant vessel in front of me. It wasn't nearly as good as Geldis's.

            "Well, I did a lot of...traveling," I replied. I wasn't quite ready to tell her I had been in the Morag Tong, and then a freelance mercenary.

            "That's so interesting!" She gushed, her luminous eyes widening in intrigue, "where did you go?"

            "Skyrim, mostly," I replied, "then I spent a bit of time on Solstheim...and then I went back to Skyrim," I said quietly. I had put down my fork, and started to stare off into the distance, recent memories flooding back to me. Nulara picked up on this turn in my body language, and continued to talk to ease the tense silence.

            "I've never left Blacklight," She said, taking a sip of Mazte, "though I'd eventually like to, but I'm not sure if that will ever happen."

            I snapped out of my thoughts of what had been, and responded to her.

            "That's too bad," I said with some pity, "Nirn is full of wonders and excitement. Have you ever heard of the Dragonborn?" I could feel my core fluttering, as if it were full of Luna moths. Nulara shook her head, and I filled her in. "Well, the Dragonborn is an individual that is said to have the body of a Man, or Mer on occasion, but the soul of a dragon. They appear every now and again in history, when Akatosh decides the time is right to bestow his gift of dragon blood on a chosen one," I said, recounting what I had read in the book at High Hrothgar.

            "Do you believe this person exists?" The young Dunmer beauty inquired, cutting up an egg with her fork. 

            "Yes, I do," I replied confidently. "When I was in Skyrim, dragons had reappeared, led by Akatosh's first born, Alduin, who was able to resurrect other dragons dead for thousands of years. They were terrorizing the land, killing people, burning down villages, stealing livestock. Then, one day, word spread that the Dragonborn had killed Alduin in the Nord afterlife realm known as Sovngarde."

            "I thought everybody's spirits stayed nearby when they died, guiding us," Nulara said curiously, cocking an eyebrow. 

            "That's true of Dunmer, but not for the Nords," I answered.

            "Hm. What happened to the resurrected dragons?" 

            "I'm not sure," I replied with a shrug. I figured Indra was still back in Skyrim, slaying Alduin's remaining followers alongside the Blades. "I got the letter to come back here before I heard of any further developments."

            "Did you ever get to see the Dragonborn?" The girl asked, still interested in my stories.

            My mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, before I took a breath and sighed.

            "No," I replied, my face likely falling. Nulara was looking back at her food as she picked up a small forkful of saltrice, and so I allowed my expression to go where it felt natural. "Though I heard she was quite the force to be reckoned with," I continued, smiling privately as I picked up my glass of Sujamma again. 

            "Oh, the Dragonborn was a woman? How exciting!" Nulara exclaimed, looking back at me. "Anyway," She said, flicking her wrist, "that all sounds very interesting, and quite dangerous."

            "That's what makes it so fun," I laughed. 

            "Well," She said with some reservation, "it would be great to see the other provinces like Skyrim, but I have a duty to my family here."

            I nodded in agreement. "So do I," I said quietly, digging into the meal.

* * *

            My official reinstatement to House Redoran was announced at the mid month festival, which was quite the affair in comparison to what I had observed on Solstheim. Celebrations in Raven Rock mainly involved Geldis tapping far too many kegs at the inn, and, if the town was lucky, someone who drank too much Sujamma would pick a fight with a netch and the rest of the party goers would have to bring it down. Blacklight festivities were grandiose, with massive sconces lit up around the manors and city, far too many people dancing in one place and I'm pretty sure I saw a twenty-person orgy through the small windows of a nearby house as I went for a walk. 

            After this cacophony there was not much to do between council meetings and meals other than train with the few warriors that called the manors and surrounding area home, or read through the vast number of books belonging to the library of House Redoran. I hadn't been able to understand most of the massive texts when I was a child, but now I devoured one book after the other, totally in awe by all the knowledge I had been missing out on. My father suddenly appeared in the room as I had my nose buried in a book about the history of House Dres.

            "Teldryn," He called out, "it's time to go to a council meeting."

            "Alright, just a second, I want to finish this para-"

            "Now. And why haven't you got your proper robes on?"

            I pulled at my simple Dunmer attire I had brought with me. The set I had acquired on Solstheim almost two years ago, its colours matching those of the beige, yellow and brown island. For some reason, I clung to it like a child would to a toy. 

            "Sorry, this is just more comfortable," I shrugged. I figured I'd be allowed to dress however I wanted in private at the very least.

            "You could have visitors stopping by throughout the day," My father said with some concern. "You need to be presentable at all times. You better hurry, now." 

            "Alright, alright," I said, jogging back to my room to change. When I was ready a minute later (I had finally figured out how to get the robes on quickly), we left our building and entered the great hall.

            I took a seat next to my father at the Redoran meeting, where other councilors sat at wooden desks arranged in a circumferential pattern of ascending height throughout the round room. After everyone had settled into their spots, one of the elders began. 

            "We need to address the proposed construction to the East side of the harbour. The smaller ships coming in to slips fourteen through twenty-five will need to be rerouted. A temporary dock will need to be built further down the coast, near the Arels subdivision." 

            Another councilman raised his hand.

           "When does the work need to commence? What's the budget?"

            Dear gods. Was this really the extent of council meetings? City construction planning? 

            Each of the items on the agenda were addressed and passed or shot down, one by one. At the end of the meeting, the head elder asked if there were any other issues. I raised my hand. I could hear some of the older members muttering to each other, likely wondering just how green I was. 

            "Yes, Llethri, is it?"

            "Thank you, yes, Teldryn...Llethri," I replied, unsure of how my new name felt on my tongue. "There's currently a civil war in Skyrim that may see a tipping point in the near future. Do we have any plans for trade or security once we find out who is the victor?"

            More murmurs came from the crowd of councilors before the elder shushed the small gathering and addressed my question.

            "That's not really much of our concern right now. As far as we have heard, the war has been stagnant for years, and will continue to remain as such for another few years."

            "I'm not so sure of that," I replied. "The main issue holding up major developments for the past two decades was the presence of dragons in the province. Now that they're gone, the armies are able to participate in battles without the threat of death from above."

            "How do you know of such matters, Teldryn Llethri?" The elder asked slowly, his eyes narrowing.

            "I spent most of my time away in Skyrim," I said. "In fact, I was there recently, and saw much of it with my own eyes. The winds of change will eventually move East, and we must be prepared." I felt as if I had a pretty decent grasp of the goings on of the province adjacent to our own, and thought it would be prudent to bring these matters to light.

            The elder paused to think. I glanced back at my father, who was looking at me with narrowed eyes, yet a slight smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. 

            "Very well," The council leader finally said, picking up his gavel, "we will consider this for future meetings. Sanvyn," He said, turning his attention to my father, "please see me in private after the conclusion of this session. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

            One day, several weeks after I had been officially welcomed, I was rifling through another bookcase, when my eyes fell on a very nondescript, small, dark book. Someone not wholly interested in perusing every single text on every single shelf probably wouldn't have noticed it at all. I attempted to pull it out, and as I did, the bookcase swung open and revealed a hidden room. As far as I could tell, it was only a plain study, until I looked closer.

            I walked into the room and held up a flame to take a look around. There was a large desk with a few papers and books, and several shelves. Upon inspecting the shelves more closely, I realized that they were covered in all sorts of sculptures, trinkets, amulets, the odd weapon and item of clothing, but they all had a central theme. Each of these items once belonged to a vampire. 

            My father had, at one point in his youth, been highly interested in becoming a vampire, but was convinced otherwise by somebody of influence that it wasn't all it he had it cracked up to be. I supposed that he had relinquished his desire in actually becoming an undead being, yet apparently the obsession had endured. Looking closer at the items now, I realized that I had seen the orb encased in a skull sitting on a desk in his unconcealed study many years ago. As a youngster, I had been curious about it, and picked it up. When Serjo Llethri caught me handling his prized possession, he gave me one of the most fantastic beatings I had ever experienced. I say that in jest now, but that may have contributed to the reason why, to this day, anything associated with vampires fills me with revulsion. I backed up out of the room, and pulled the bookcase closed.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indra was in Blacklight during the celebration that Teldryn attended. She was looking at the crowd from afar, not knowing he was there.
> 
> Teldryn is super excited about being back in House Redoran again, and it's somewhat blinding him to the negative aspects, or even the motivations of Sanvyn Llethri. Since he and his mother were kicked out abruptly, getting re-instated is sort of closure for one of the more jarring things that happened to him in his youth.
> 
> I made up that prayer, but it was inspired by a similar IRL prayer I've heard before, and the sword, shield, armor thing was meant to be inspired by the fact that Redoran is the warrior house.


	9. Tales of Skyrim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the war has done.

* * *

* * *

I see a mine collapsing on a dozen workers. A beggar succumbs to bloodflies. A cat sleeps on a velvet pillow. -Jessamine Kaldwin

* * *

* * *

Solitude

            It is dawn. The old woman named Angeline slowly rises from her worn bed after the dim light pouring through the pewter-welded windows wakes her, flecks of dust dancing in its beams. As she wraps a shawl around her shoulders and lights a fire in the cold hearth, she can smell the familiar scent of her herbs and poultices downstairs. She walks past the empty bedroom on her way to the front door, all its belongings lay untouched. Her daughter has left home to fight in a war in which she never saw the beginning, and will not see the end, but her mother doesn't know this. Angeline walks outside to check her mailbox. She does this every morning, always hoping that today will be the day she hears from her daughter. The mailbox is empty.

            Down the road, Noster is still drunk from the night before, sleeping in a pile of hay, bundled in stinking rags. The patrons in the Winking Skeever buy him drinks out of pity, and so that he will leave them alone. He was once an archer in the Imperial Legion, that is, until he was injured and left for dead by the very soldiers he considered brothers in arms, his friends. He drinks to forget what they did, and yet in doing so, he also forgets himself.

            Not far from town, Elisif's court entertains Thalmor ambassadors. The dining room is spacious, well-lit, and warm. Trays of food from all over Tamriel are brought out on ornate platters made of silver from Markarth. The nobles cannot possibly eat it all. What remains is thrown to the dogs.

* * *

Windhelm

            A young girl stands by the gate leading to the docks, her hands freezing in the everlasting cold as she grips a ragged basket. She sells the meager, scraggly flowers she picks outside of the city, near the farms. Other than sorting through the piles of frozen, rotting cabbages and potatoes, it is the only way she can feed herself. Her mother died birthing her; her father as a Stormcloak. One day she will be sent to Honourhall orphanage.

* * *

Markarth

            In the silver mines, a man pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow with a rough and calloused hand. He does not stop long, as he knows he will be lashed if he does. The scars on his back serve as a constant reminder of this threat. Wealth from the silver he collects goes directly into the hands of the Silver-Blood family. They will use the coin they make to prop up the Stormcloak army. 

* * *

The Reach

            A group of men and women, none of them past thirty years of age, trudge through falling snow, towards the small town and military outpost of Dragon Bridge, with the intention of recruiting more willing bodies for their cause. They look up at at the stone carving and are reminded of the young woman that will bring peace. She defeated the darkness of the gods, and she will defeat the darkness of men. The statue gives them hope.

* * *


	10. Enter the Void

* * *

* * *

Restrict an errant mind before it becomes fractious and divided. Can two enemies occupy the same body? No, for the first will direct it one way, and the second another, until they stumble into a ditch and its neck is broken. Likewise, two contrary thoughts cannot long abide in a man’s mind, or he will become weak-willed and subject to any heresy. – The Seventh Stricture

* * *

* * *

            After Aventus was sacrificed to Sithis, I left the Dark Brotherhood, never having truly become a part of their "family", and began the trek back to Leaf Rest, unsure of what to do next. Aventus was supposed to fulfill my contract for Tullius, but now he couldn't, and it didn't sit well with me to continue to be involved with those that had killed him. I had really liked the kid. He was someone I could have seen being childhood friends with, if things were different. I had a brief thought that I may be able to handle assassinating the general myself. It may work...I was stealthy, and the armies would crumble without their leader. At the same time, I lacked the breadth of assassin skills that the other Brotherhood members employed on their missions. I would likely get caught and find my head on the chopping block if I tried to go after the General myself.

            One night, I made camp somewhere in the Whiterun hold, and for no reason at all, other than a peculiar feeling, I awoke in the middle of the night. The campfire had become smoldering ash, and I could hear no insects or nocturnal animals. Something seemed off. I stood up, and began walking towards the main path I had been traveling on. It was so dark. I was wearing only my underclothes, and I expected it to be colder, yet I was perfectly comfortable. I looked up. There were no stars in the sky, yet I hadn't recalled it being an overcast evening. 

            I turned around to go back to my camp, but where my tent once stood was now a gaping black hole. The rest of the landscape had become bent and twisted, leaning and spiraling towards what appeared to be a portal. Walking closer, I realized I could see through the abyss into what looked like another world that was made entirely of sharp rocks. As I stepped even closer now, I felt as if I was being pulled in, and then suddenly, without warning, I was in the other place. Islands of black obsidian arranged in platforms of varying height, and strangely pleasing geometric shapes floated in a sea of never ending grey. There was no beginning, and no end to the strange dimension. 

            I began walking along the narrow aisle of shining rock that I had been thrust onto, and as I was taking in my surroundings, something began to materialize in front of me, the figure's glimmering matching the environment.

            "Welcome, Indra," He said.

            "Aventus!" I gasped as he became whole. He looked as he did when he died, but his eyes were now completely, wholly, black, shining like mica, akin to the rocks around us. "Are you...alive?" I asked.

            At first he was silent and only stared at me with hideous dark abysses where eyes should have been. He was an odd boy when I had known him on Nirn, but now he was even more eerie. 

            "No," He finally replied with a sigh and crossing his arms. "I am quite dead, the Dark Brotherhood made sure of that."

            A wave of sadness washed over me. "I'm so sorry they killed you like that, Cicero was so cruel about it, and Runa...she was your friend," I said, feeling my eyes start to burn.

            He smiled a little, with wisdom and some sadness.

            "It's alright," He eventually said. "It was a necessary sacrifice. And it hasn't been all bad, I can see so much from here, now," The young man smiled, holding out his arms to the vastness, then placing his hands behind his back. "Though I still have much to learn."

            "Where are we?" I inquired, looking around at the borderless world.

            "Sithis." He replied.

            "I thought Sithis was a Daedra..." I asked, trailing off in confusion.

            "Not quite. Sithis is Padomaic, sure, but he is also not a true entity. He is nothingness, the void, the vast expanse between life and death, limbo, emptiness...and now I serve him for eternity."

            "What can you see?" I inquired, unsure of what he meant earlier.

            "Everything. Tamriel, Nirn, the planes of Oblivion, the living, the dead," Aventus said and started walking towards me. "Although I can watch them, I cannot influence them directly. That is why you are here."

            With that, he approached me and took my left hand. He touched the top of it, and pain began to sear through my body, eventually becoming focused on where he had grazed my skin with his pale fingers.

            "Ah!" I cried, "It burns...from the inside," I said as the mark made its appearance, and I cradled my hand with the other. My skin was smoldering as a symbol appeared, charred into my flesh. 

            "I have learned much here, and now understand how to transfer this knowledge using this mark," Aventus said, releasing me, and walking away. "Consider it a gift. You've helped me before, and I still intend on repaying you."

            I looked down at the strange symbol. I could make out a jagged, half-circular shape, and several points. It had begun to glow a faint, ghostly violet.

            "What does this mean?" I asked the strange boy who was now about ten paces away from me.

            Suddenly, he vanished in a cloud of black smoke, and appeared directly in front of me. I fell over in surprise.

            "When you enter the void, many things suddenly become possible. All you need to do, is Blink"

            What was he talking about? He vanished again, and the rocks around me began to fall away from where I was scrambling to stand up. Aventus appeared again, this time safely on another island that was not disintegrating into the empty nothingness.

            "Aventus! Help!" I shouted, panicking.

            "Focus on me, Indra. You know where you have to go. Simply will it to happen, and it will be so."

            I looked around desperately as the tiny piece of black, shiny obsidian I stood on continued to crumble. Looking up at Aventus, I focused on a spot near him, and envisioned myself reaching safety. The fresh mark on my hand began to tingle, but it didn't hurt. I closed my eyes and felt my body being pulled forward, my feet suddenly firmly on solid ground. When I re-opened my eyes, Aventus was sitting on a raised block directly in front of me. I looked back. The island I had been on seconds ago was now completely falling into the grey.

            "What was that?" I asked, breathing heavily.

            "Just a sample of the power of Sithis," Aventus replied calmly. "I think you'll find that the power of the void holds many surprises, and I want you to be able to experience this ability."

            "Why me?"

            The young man turned to me. "I already told you, you've helped me in the past," I saw something resembling malice glimmer through his eyes as now fully faced me, smiling, "also, I just find you so...interesting,"

            There was that word again. Interesting. Teldryn had called me interesting on more than one occasion, and it had caused me some amount of seemingly unjustified turmoil each time. Did Aventus somehow know...was he...taunting me? He interrupted my thoughts with a question.

            "Would you like a clue? Something that will help you unravel the puzzle of this war and your place in it?"

            I was confused. "What would that be?" I asked, hoping that it wouldn't be something that would lead me in an entirely different direction.

            "You wanted to know who performed the Black Sacrament to have the Emperor assassinated, right?"

            Did he know this now? Was he able to see into the past? 

            "Yes," I answered, my pulse quickening, "do you know who did it?"

            "I do. His name is Amaund Motierre." 

            "Who is he?" 

            "He is a, shall we say, person of interest in this whole debacle," Aventus said, seeming somewhat entertained by my distress. 

            "Well, where can I find him?" I asked. 

            "He frequents the Bannered Mare in Whiterun,"

            "But I can't get in to Whiterun!" I exclaimed.

            "I'm sure you can find a way, now," Aventus smiled. "One more thing, Indra."

            "Yes, what is it?"

            "I would ask that you build shrines to me, wherever you can. Carve my mark into stone, and leave some of my power behind."

            "I can do that," I offered, "but why?"

            "It helps me stay tethered to your world, and over time, the runes will draw power from Sithis, and will become enchanted, allowing a direct connection between your world and mine. Eventually, one day, another will find them...and me."

            "Why do you want people to find you?"

            "I am sure you are aware that for years, Sithis has only been able to influence Nirn by persuading those who serve darkness and the void to create chaos by assassinating key individuals during key times in history. I intend on changing that, just a bit. I have no personal desires to do so, but I am here to serve Sithis, which means bending to the dread father's will." 

            "Is that the point of Sithis? Why make life on Nirn more difficult?" I inquired. 

            "Chaos is not necessarily an evil invention, Indra, it also represents change." 

            Is that why Skyrim was in such disarray - because I had brought about change, and therefore chaos? Aventus continued to explain the scope of his plans.

            "Think of it this way," He said, "all worlds require a balance of light and dark to ensure their survival through time and space. You, being born of Akatosh and thus Anu, brought light and peace upon the world by slaying Alduin. Now, you must bring change, through Sithis, and Padomay." 

            "But war is chaos and darkness, why would I fight it with even more chaos?" I asked. I had already done so much damage, wouldn't his mark only cause me to do more? 

            "Embracing the Padomaic side of Mundus is the only way to win. Peace must be established by force." 

            As I was wondering if he had looked in at the conversation I had had with Brunwulf long ago, the void had started to come apart, the violent shaking drawing closer to where I stood in front of Aventus. 

            The boy smiled before he graced me with his final words. 

            "Fear not, Indra, you will not always be alone in this endeavour. In fact, you cannot be. Fate will not allow it."

            "What? What do you mean? I don't understand! Aventus!" I called out, reaching for him, but his smiling face beneath pure black eyes began to disappear into the void as I felt myself being pulled back into the real world.

            I opened my eyes. I could hear wolves howling as I realized that I was lying back in my bedroll, tucked between the leather folds. I looked up at the stars, trying to process what just happened. I removed my left arm from under my roll, and saw that Aventus's mark was there on my hand, sharp edges glowing violet in the night. What did it mean? Why me...I lay back down and attempted to fall back asleep, but found it exceedingly difficult to take my mind off of what was to come. I had to get to Amaund Motierre. I had to find out what was happening in Whiterun, with the Empire and with Balgruuf. I had to get rid of Tullius. 

            It wasn't until after the strange boy had singed his will into my flesh that I began to dream of things I had never experienced, yet I knew to be true.

* * *


	11. Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanvyn Llethri offers Teldryn a position within House Redoran that will best utilize his skillset. Nulara and Teldryn's relationship is developed by force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read my stories, I'm actually always a bit surprised to see that happen!
> 
> The kudos you guys leave are really heartwarming, and I really appreciate it!

* * *

* * *

Always conflict. Power, greed, lust. For me, what I wouldn’t give just to hold your hand in mine one more time. \- Jessamine Kaldwin 

* * *

* * *

            "So, what do you think of Nulara?" My father asked me one evening as we strolled through the streets of Blacklight. Citizens hastily moved out of our way as we walked. I was simultaneously embarrassed, and yet amazed what status did for social etiquette.

            "She's a nice woman," I replied, "but I don't think we have much in common."

            "Hm." Was his only response.

            "Why do you ask?"

            "Well, we figured she would make an excellent wife for you," My father replied. "She's young, beautiful, is well-acquainted with the noble livelihood and quite well-connected as well. She would be a fine match, and you could have many children if you started soon."

            Ah, so that's why he was wondering what I thought of her. I figured I would eventually settle down somewhere in Blacklight, yet I hadn't fully come to terms with the fact that I likely wouldn't be the one to pick out my partner. All the more reason to have left Indra behind, I suppose. What was I to have done? Show up at House Redoran after close to thirty years with a half-Dunmer half-Nord Dragonborn in tow? Oh, hello father, I'm ready to take my place as a noble. Could my girlfriend come live with us too? Oh, by the way, she kills and eats the souls of dragons, and can breath fire. I think she will be an excellent addition to our Great House.  I supposed that last sentence may have been true, had she not been part Nord. 

            "Would I be able to get to know her a bit better, first?" I asked. Every woman had something to admire about them, I just had to find that spark with Nulara. I had only been here close to three months, and hadn't spent all that much time with her outside of dinner, though I supposed it was time to start.

            "Of course, take what time you need," My father said jovially, "although how long could it possibly be before two young, attractive, single Dunmer are falling for each other?"

            "Right, shouldn't be long now," I shrugged, somewhat unsure. 

            "There's another matter I wanted to discuss with you," My father said more quietly this time, leading me to a bench by the water, away from the main street. 

            "Yes, what is it?" I asked, a bit confused.

            "Have a seat, Teldryn."

            I heeded his request and Serjo Llethri sat down beside me. 

            "After the council meeting in which you questioned the elder's leadership, I met with the Muthsera afterwards to talk about you in private," My father started.

            I felt my stomach knotting. "Oh, did I offend him in any way?" I asked.

            "Surprisingly, no. He was quite curious about you, actually, as am I." My father said, then turned towards me. I could see his glowing red eyes piercing into the side of my face. "Teldryn, what did you do when you left House Redoran?" He asked in a serious tone, his eyes narrowing. 

            "Why do you want to know?" I responded in kind, turning my own eyes towards him. 

            He sighed. "You're not in any amount of trouble, we just want to know where your strengths may lie." 

            I took a deep breath, still a bit suspicious. "Well, I was in the Morag Tong for several years. I left after my stepfather was killed and became a freelance mercenary in Skyrim." I didn't tell him I had been chased by pirates for half a decade, nor that I had been helping the Dragonborn. By now, I had become adept at keeping just the right amount of secrets. 

            "So you have had plenty of experience with negotiations and infiltrating enemy lines, then?" My father inquired quietly, aware of anyone that may have been listening in on our conversation. 

            "I suppose you could say that," I replied, wondering where this was going. 

            "Listen, I know you're having some difficulty adjusting here. You weren't born into nobility, and it's not as if you've been groomed for it your whole life like the others,"

            "Well, I can still learn," I interjected, a little offended, but my father hastily waved away my offer and continued to talk. 

            "That's not the point," He said quickly, "what I'm trying to say, is, would you like an opportunity to help House Redoran in ways that would suit you best?"

            "How do you propose I do that?" I asked, now quite curious about what he was going to offer me.

            My father glanced around again, and lowered his voice once more. 

            "The council would like for you to be a spy," He said in little more than a whisper.

            "I think I can manage that," I smirked. This sounded fun. "Who will I be spying on?" I whispered back.

            "The other Great Houses," My father replied, still keeping his voice low. "You'll be briefed on your upcoming work in the next few weeks, then you'll be traveling to the Southern part of Morrowind." As he began to stand up, he now spoke in a normal volume. "Come now," He said, "let's get back to the manors before anyone starts to wonder what we're up to."

* * *

            When we returned, Nulara was waiting for me in the main hall.

            "Teldryn," She began, approaching me, "would you be opposed to spending some time with me tomorrow? There aren't many good men left around here, and I'd like to get to know you better, seeing as I already like you quite a bit."

            "I...okay, then," I said, taken aback by her straightforwardness. Despite her profession of her feelings towards me, she showed no emotion as I would have expected. Many other women, and men, had told me how they felt about me, yet there was always a bit of shyness behind their words. Some redness in their cheeks, perhaps, or downcast eyes, the shuffling of feet...

            Then, I suppose, there was Indra, who, after unabashedly looking me in the eye and telling me she gave a shit about me, proceeded to attack me at Leaf Rest. I suppose I had confessed to her as well, in a roundabout way. I hadn't ever done anything like that before, and didn't know how else to tell her I wanted her for myself, as short lived as our pseudo-relationship was. Poor timing, that it was. 

            Now, Nulara's demeanor was wholly neutral, as far as I could tell. If she was trying to use me, it didn't really make much sense; the Sarethi's were far more influential and wealthy than the Llethri's. Perhaps she was just as stoic as they come. I supposed I could work with that.

* * *

            The next day, I decided to take Nulara outside of Blackreach limits to the countryside. It was easier to connect with someone without the distractions of city life. 

            "Do you get ash hoppers around here anymore?" I asked, thinking I could snag a few to repair the armor I had left at my mother's place.

            "I wouldn't know. I don't ever come out here," She replied casually. 

            I stopped walking, shocked at what she had just said. The landscape of Morrowind was beautiful, perhaps even more so than Skyrim. Why would she not take advantage of it?

            "Really? Why not?" I asked incredulously.

            She looked at me as if I had just asked her why Dunmer worship Azura.

            "It's dangerous, obviously, and there's nothing to do," She answered. "It's also filthy out here." She had been ruching her skirts up to avoid them dragging in the dirt and ash.

            "Why didn't you tell me you wouldn't be comfortable out here when I suggested this outing?" I asked. 

            "I don't know," She sighed, "it seemed like an interesting idea, plus my parents said I should..." She said, trailing off.

            "Should what?" I urged.

            "Nothing." Nulara quietly replied. 

            "Well, if you don't like it, we can head back to Blacklight and find something else to do."

            "It's not that I don't like it," She said, "I've just never considered coming out here to be something to do for fun."

            "It's fine," I sighed, "clearly you're not prepared to be out here anyway." 

* * *

            Later that night, after dinner, I was sitting on my bed, absorbed in yet another book, when Nulara came into my room with two servants in tow, holding a chest between them.

            "Can I help you?" I asked, quite confused.

            "I'm to come stay with you in your chambers, now. My parents feel as though it will help...accelerate our relationship," She stated, in a rigidly mechanical voice. 

            I closed the book and sat up. 

            "Uh, alright. You can put your belongings wherever, I've got lots of space," I offered. It wasn't as if I had many possessions before I had arrived here, and I really hadn't collected anything in my time spent here.

            "Thank you," Nulara said, directing the servants as to where to put down the chest. "I'm going to bed soon. Are you staying up much longer?"

            "I don't have to," I shrugged.

            "Perfect." Nulara said definitively, and waved the servants out. As soon as they were gone, she grabbed her nightclothes from the chest and pulled off her dress, stripping down to nothing as she faced away from me.

            "Could have given me a bit more warning there," I said, looking away, a bit confused about her lack of modesty.

            "No need to be bashful in front of your future husband, I figure," She replied flatly, throwing on the beige slip. 

            "Wait, I thought that was only a suggestion, a tentative idea," I exclaimed, sitting up in surprise. 

            "Well, according to my parents, it's a go," Nulara muttered. "We have about a year of freedom left," She said, letting out a joyless laugh. 

            "You don't sound happy about it," I said, "I thought you enjoyed my company?"

            "I do," Nulara sighed, "my feelings on the matter have nothing to do with you. It's just...I didn't think I'd be getting married so young. I thought I had more time to...find myself."

            "You can still do that when we're married," I offered.

            "Well, you say that, but..."

            "What?" I pressed. 

            "Nothing. Don't worry about it," She sighed.

            Nulara flopped into bed beside me and rolled over, facing the other direction. Though I found her attractive, I wasn't attracted to her. It was a strange situation to be in, and I hoped it would one day change for the better. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's on Nulara's mind?


	12. Dream Sequence 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After becoming part of the Void, in essence, Indra begins dreaming about previous times.

* * *

* * *

            The first night, I dreamt of Nothing, until Something appeared in my unconscious reverie. There were two of them. They did not speak, yet I could hear their words.

            "Padomay, come here," 

            "What is it, brother?" 

            A being approaches another in the vast Nothing. The one that beckons shines so brilliantly, that I cannot stare too long, else I will be blinded. The one that moves is harder to see, it darts from shadow to shadow as it creeps towards its brother. I stare at it, but it disappears. The Light embraces the Dark. 

            "What was that for?" The Dark one inquires. 

            "Nothing at all, you are my brother, and I wanted a reminder of your love." 

            "To myself, or to you?" 

            "Both." 

            "You're too sentimental," The Dark one jokes, striking the Light in play, "what else is there to know?" 

            The Light one laughs and strikes back. They continue to wrestle, shards of their aspects flying in various directions throughout the Nothing. The shards begin to fuse, creating a grey mass that contains them within an even greater realm that rushes past in a smooth, never-ending liquid. Or is it them that rushes past what is outside of their new home? 

            "Wait, Anu, what is that?" The Dark one stops playing and looks towards their shards. 

            "Did we do that?" The Light one asks, moving towards the growing mass. 

            Soon, the Grey has overtaken the Nothing. Shortly after, a new being springs forth from smaller shards. It is both of them, yet neither of them. It is beautiful and vulnerable. The brothers are entranced by the new being, who speaks to them.

            "Thank you for allowing me to be," The Other says. 

            "Who are you?" The Dark one asks. 

            "I do not have a name," 

            "We shall call you Nir," States the Light one, radiating geniality. "Come, be with us, this place is changing at our will, and you can help."

            Time passes by the three, they can see it swirl around them, just outside of the Grey. Nir stays close to Anu, as it is possible to see farther when the Light being is nearby, and Nir feels protection and warmth from Anu. Yet, Padomay also has much to offer; curiosity, ideas, intelligence, questions, meaning... 

            "When will you decide which of us you love?" The Dark one asks the Other at one moment in Time. 

            "Must I choose?" Nir replies, sadly. 

            "Everything is fine the way it is, is it not, brother?" The Light one interrupts. 

            "No," Says Padomay, "it is not. Nir must make a choice." 

            "If I must, then...I would be with Anu,"

            "Why?!" Cries Padomay, "I have much more to offer," 

            "I am sorry, Padomay," Nir begs, "I cannot help what I want, and need." 

            The dark one turns and leaves to wander the grey on his own. The light one tries to stop him, begging for him to stay, but he is gone. 

* * *

            "Why has my brother left, is it because of who I am, or because of who Padomay is?" Anu asks Nir. Nir is growing; Creation is inside. 

            "That is not something I can answer," Nir replies. 

            "Who, then can tell me?" 

            "Only you." 

            "Only me..." Anu repeats. This thought remains with Anu, an idea that storms inside of him through the passage of time, gaining shape. One day, Anu reaches deep within himself, and pulls out a small piece of his own being. It takes on a new form in his reflection.

            "Why do we suffer?" Anu asks Anui-El. 

            "Because we desire." 

            "Why do we desire?" 

            "Because we exist." 

            "Why do we exist?" 

            "Because something desires it to be so." 

            Anu sighs. "Then why do anything at all. What do you desire, Anui-El?" 

            "To continue your legacy." The new form replies. Little does Anu know, that his brother entertains his own reflection form as well. But Padomay does not speak to his reflection, nor does it have any capacity to answer. It exists for him to gaze upon, to remind himself of his own shortcomings, yet it simultaneously encourages him to become a stronger version of himself, for better or worse. 

* * *

            "Padomay, you've returned!" Cries Anu, happy to see his brother. 

            The Dark one says nothing to the Light one, but approaches Nir. 

            "I have spent many cycles through the Grey in thought. I realize now that I love only you, and only you can make me whole." 

            "I cannot love you in return, Padomay, I'm sorry," Nir replies, sadness tinging her voice. "I love only Anu."

            Something new rises up in the Dark being, turning him into a figure even more difficult to see, but I can feel this novel energy radiating from Padomay. He reaches out and strikes Nir, hard. Before she can protect herself, he hurts her, over and over. Anu rushes over and rips Padomay off of Nir, who is beginning to blend in with the Grey around them. The brothers continue to fight, more of their shards flying off of each other, some of them mingling, some of them remaining isolated. Anu finally grabs Padomay and throws him out of the Grey, and into the moving mass outside. Nir cries out in pain as what grew inside her now make their appearance in the realm - twelve beings emerge, each unique. While the three original ones that roamed the Grey were no more than whispers, these twelve are a growing voice, more defined in appearance, yet their energies simultaneously less distinct than of those who created them. Nir fades into the Grey as Anu weeps in the suffering of loss, believing there is nothing more to exist for. His detachment to his own home causes him to sleep deeply for many, many cycles as Anui-El can only look on in pity, and Sithis in contemplation. 

* * *

            Padomay, though wounded, had always been a clever one, and found a way back through time and into the Grey. He saw Anu asleep, and around him, the children of Anu and Padomay. They would have been perfect if they had lived; only touched by the Light of Anu, no Dark influence of Padomay. Padomay knew this, and hatred grows from anger. He turns hatred into a weapon, and cuts through Creation. Anu wakes and fights Padomay, hoping to salvage all he has left, not realizing Padomay has had nothing ever since Nir was born. 

            If seasons existed in this domain in time and space, they would have transitioned from one to the other as the brothers fought furiously. Aided by sheer Will, Anu finally defeats his brother, and throws his wounded body outside of time again. All he has left now is Hope, and using this new energy, fuses what is left of Creation into one single entity. He names it Nirn, after his fallen love. 

            Suddenly, a mortally wounded Padomay re-appears, already possessing the knowledge of how to return. He plunges Hatred through Anu, shattering his life essence. Using all that his left of his strength, Anu pulls both of them outside of time and the Grey, forever. To destroy one is to destroy the other. True Light and Dark no longer exist; all that remains of their memories are their reflections, and fragments of their being. These fragments turn into what appears to be blood, I cannot tell whose blood belongs to whom. 

            Their blood is coming for me. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that much of TES lore is unclear and open to interpretation, so this chapter, and the other lore-heavy ones, are all just my own renditions of what I've read. I think, in the end, it's all deeply philosophical in nature, and that is what I've tried to recapitulate through my stories. Let me know what your interpretations of TES lore are, I love philosophical discussions :)


	13. Shadow Walker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indra confronts Balgruuf about the current situation, and finds Amaund Motierre while discovering her new powers in the process.

* * *

* * *

            I awoke after the first strange dream. The beings I had seen in my sleep seemed so distant, yet somehow so close. I got dressed and looked down at my hand. Aventus's mark was obscured by my archery gauntlet, but I could still see the faint violet glow seeping out from where the black leather ended. It had been three days since I had left the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, and two days since Aventus had pulled me into the Void. I was close to the city of Whiterun now, where I would have to infiltrate the gates, and find Amaund Motierre. Apparently the assassination of the Emperor was a door to understanding how to bring stability to Skyrim, and Motierre was the key. Perhaps I could even get into Dragonsreach and confront Balgruuf while I was there.

            The mark had changed me, not just physically in that I was now able to dissipate short distances using the technique Aventus had shown me, but also in my mind, my thoughts. I used to see the world as a place of opportunity, now I knew it to be only hardship and strife with very little waiting for us at the end of the road. A good death is all we could hope for in a world like this, where the forces of Mundus pit us against each other to scramble like rats in a sewer, trying to get the biggest piece of trash. Wherever there was a sliver of light, darkness would soon follow. I understood that there was no justice, only revenge; those meant to uphold justice only abused their powers where possible. Moreover, I was now drawn to shadows; I felt at home when they caressed my body, as if I could melt into them, becoming only an observer, never to be seen again. Then I thought, was it the mark, or was it just my own shifting perceptions after everything that had happened to me?

            The city of Whiterun appeared on the horizon early in the afternoon, and I was near its gates by evening. I waited until it was dark to make my move, as I would remain better hidden, and for whatever reason, I could see better in the dark now. Once it was late enough that the guards had lit their torches, I crept up the wooden ramparts and stopped near the first platform, watching the Imperial soldiers pace back and forth. They were much more perceptive than the regular Whiterun guards, and much more deadly. As I stood in the shadows, I could feel the darkness tugging on me, pulling me further and further into its embrace, the mark on my hand leading the way. At first I resisted, but eventually gave in to their beckoning, and soon found I was entirely one of them. Or at least, that's what it looked like.

            I looked down at my arms, they were now long, translucent black and smokey appendages that terminated in huge sharp claws which pulled the rest of my disambiguous body along the ground. Slowly crawling towards the Imperials, I saw that they continued to stare in the other direction entirely, as if I didn't exist at all. I moved past them and was now off to one side of the main gates, where two soldiers stood. I wondered if I could still interact with the world in this form, and reached out to grab one of the Imperials by the ankle. He fell on his face as I did, and the other became distracted by his partner's sudden odd behaviour. 

            "Are you okay? What happened?" The one soldier asked the other, crouching down to help his comrade.

            "I don't know," The other replied, holding his head. "It was like something tripped me, but that doesn't make any sense, I didn't see anything..."

            As the other soldier suggested his friend see a healer, I used the diversion to open the gates a crack, and slid into the city. As the light from the many fires illuminating the streets began to touch me, I could feel myself being pulled away from the shadows, and darted into the alleys to hide, as my body came into being again. Looking upwards, I could see soldiers standing on the city walls, their gazes directed out into the fields surrounding the hold. I still didn't know what they were on guard for. Keeping my back against the walls, I made my way up to Dragonsreach. Perhaps I could clear up any confusion with Balgruuf, and the soldiers would then let me freely search the city for Amaund Motierre. 

            Not unexpectedly, Dragonsreach was absolutely crawling with Imperial soldiers. They stood around the main entrance, on the stairs leading up to the palace and all around the Gildergreen tree. There was no way across the bridge without being seen, unless...

            I Blinked up the rocks that formed the foundation of the palace, and again upwards, landing on top of the arches that covered the small bridge across the moat. Each time I used the power of Sithis, I could feel myself being drained slightly, as if I were casting a spell, but I regained my magic energy quickly, as I always had. Those born under the sign of the Apprentice had that strength to their advantage. I worked my way up to the rooftops of Dragonsreach and began looking in the windows, trying to find Balgruuf's chambers. I eventually found him, not in bed, but pacing up and down a hallway that overlooked the main hall. His face was taut with stress, and he looked several years older. I could see a guard with his back to the window, and I pulled miyself back into a shadow form. I quietly opened the window, and just as the guard detected a disturbance behind him, I slithered through the crack and forced him to the ground, driving my claws through the back of his neck.

            Still walking with the shadows, I started crawling towards Balgruuf, one black, smoky limb after the other. He was petrified, eyes widened in shock, mouth frozen in a silent scream. I almost enjoyed the look of terror on his face, as I felt he had betrayed me. The light of the palace touched me, and I materialized back into normal existence.

            "Indra?!" Balgruuf exclaimed, coming back to his senses, "You can't be here! Another guard on patrol will be up here soon!" 

            "Then we don't have much time, Jarl Balgruuf," I said quietly, walking closer to him. "Why are there Imperial Soldiers in town, and why are they trying to keep me out?" 

            Balgruuf sighed, the dread in his face replaced by exhaustion. 

            "It's the Empire," He said, "they're muzzling me. They want you to take full responsibility for the People's Army, and they don't want us to be in contact with each other. The story they're telling the citizens is that you're planning on taking over Whiterun, and they need to be here for protection." 

            "Why are you helping them?" I hissed, leaning towards him as he leaned back. 

            "Indra, I don't want to," Balgruuf pleaded, holding up his hands, "but they threatened to execute me at the conclusion of the war. Don't you understand? Our rebels have no hope against the Empire. I submitted to them because I need to be alive to see Whiterun through to better times."

            "What are they planning on doing with you, then?" 

            "Believe it or not, they told me I could be High King," Balgruuf sighed, "they're going along with your ideas." 

            "What!" I exclaimed with as much control as I could muster, but it was still a bit too loud. I lowered my voice before continuing, "I suppose they just wanted me out of the picture to take the plan for themselves, huh. I don't like the sounds of this. Are you sure you can trust them?" 

            "Well, considering I'm their political prisoner for now, I don't exactly have much of a choice," Balgruuf replied, throwing up his hands. 

            I looked over the balcony and into the main hall. I could see Imperial soldiers standing, half-asleep, posted at every supportive wooden beam, "What else is going on with the war developments?" I asked quietly. 

            "All I know right now is that the Stormcloaks are going to make one final push towards Solitude soon. The fate of the men and women that follow you will be decided after that. Is that all you came here to discuss?" 

            I shook my head. "There's one more thing. Do you know who Amaund Motierre is?" 

            "Of course, everybody knows who he is, but nobody really knows him," 

            "What in Oblivion does that mean?" I grumbled, shifting my feet in irritation. 

            "He's a madman, he hangs around the Bannered Mare, drinking, talking to himself, paranoid of people asking him anything." 

            "What does he look like?" I pressed. 

            "He's an Imperial, wears fine clothing, though they're filthy and tattered now. You'll probably hear him before you see him." 

            "I have to go." 

            "What am I supposed to do about this?" Balgruuf whispered, indicating the dead guard, "and what kind of dark powers did you acquire in your time spent missing? I've never seen anything like that before," 

            "Hang on," I said with some annoyance. I grabbed the body and hauled the guard through the window with me on my way out, but not before turning my head to answer the Jarl's question. "This is a different kind of magic, and it came with a heavy price." 

            "It seems evil," Balgruuf said. 

            "I know," I replied, "Sithis is often construed that way." 

            I left the Jarl standing in the hall as I closed the window and ascended to the highest peak of Dragonsreach with the dead guard in tow, hoping the vultures would dispose of the body.

* * *

            After leaving Dragonsreach, I slunk through the shadows of Whiterun to the Bannered Mare, and entered through a window on the top floor. As I peered over the top of the stairs at the locals enjoying their evening, I was suddenly hyper aware of the rats that scuttled through the nooks and crannies of the inn, picking up dropped food and darting back into the walls. I continued to stare at them, feeling myself getting closer and closer to their vitality. One made it's way out of the wall upstairs, and I grabbed it. Looking it in the eyes, I felt a strange connection with the little beast, and all at once I was on the floor. Though my vision was slightly obscured, my sense of smell was suddenly overwhelming. I could smell the soap that Ysolda had used last night, the spices that flavoured the ale on Mikael's breath. With some panic, I then realized I had become the rat I had been holding a moment earlier. Agitated now, I wanted to become normal again and focused on what being Man/Mer felt like. My body had reappeared in the room, and looking down past my shaking hands, I saw a dead rat lying on the ground.

            With more confidence now, I took a deep breath and looked back down at the corners of the room below and found another rat. Possessing it, I scurried around the corners of the main floor, trying to attune myself to what I imagined what kinds of words Amaund would speak. I listened to the idle chatter of the patrons as I investigated the inn. 

            "Heard the dragon attacks are starting to die down now..." 

            "My uncle left to join up in that new rebel army. I don't know what they're planning..." 

            "Foods getting scarce in some parts, what with the soldiers needing more rations and all..." 

            As I darted from cover to cover, my cloudy eyes eventually fell on a worn Imperial man sitting at a table by himself, cradling his drink in two hands and staring around at the other patrons in agitation. My suspicions that this was the man I was looking for were confirmed by the barmaid who, in a sympathetic voice, asked if he needed anything.

            "Why? What would I need? I have everything I need, everything," He replied with hostility. 

            "Alright, sorry I asked," Hulda muttered, walking away. 

            I left the inn through a crack in the wall and hid on top of the roof, waiting for Amaund to leave. When I saw his hunched figure exit the tavern, I followed the deranged man through the streets of Whiterun, staying in the shadows until he entered an alleyway. He was likely homeless and living in one of the tents that stretched near the ramparts at the end of the walkway. Before he reached the small community, I sprang on him. 

            "Amaund Motierre, listen to me," I said, grabbing the man. 

            "Who are you? What do you want? I don't have the money anymore!" He exclaimed, eyes wide with fear and madness. He smelled like ale and piss. 

            "What? I don't want your money," I said, gripping his collar, "I need to know why you wanted to assassinate the Emperor," 

            "Oh, they've found me! They know it was me, Titus! Titus Mede, oh my friend, I'm so sorry," Amaund blubbered, his words disintegrating into gibberish and noises. 

            "Amaund! Why did you do it!" I hissed, trying to stay quiet. 

            "It wasn't supposed to be like this, Titus. Why did it have to be like this," He sobbed as he produced a blade from under his tunic. 

            "Whoa, hey, I'm not here to hurt you," I said, releasing the Imperial and taking several steps backwards. 

            "It wasn't supposed to be like this," Amaund said again, tears running down his cheeks. He lifted the dagger up to his neck and swiftly cut his own throat. His body collapsed in a heap in the alley, blood seeping through the cracks between the cobblestone bricks. 

            "Shit," I breathed, panting in the cold night air. 

            "Hey! You there! Stay where you are!" An Imperial guard shouted to me as he walked down the alley, holding a torch. 

            "Shit!" I muttered again, and turned around to run the other direction, but another guard was coming up the alley, preventing me from escaping in that direction.

            "Show yourself to me," The guard demanded, getting even closer now. "Wait, it's you!" He exclaimed, holding up the torch so he could see my face. We looked each other in the eye. Just as he took a deep breath to yell to the other soldiers, I held my left hand out and begged Aventus to help me. Suddenly, I was facing the other direction, and I was holding a torch. It worked. I continued walking towards the front gate, and as I passed another Imperial soldier, he nodded to me. I couldn't nod back, nor could I speak, all I could do was move my legs closer to freedom. As I slipped outside the ramparts, I could feel myself being pulled away from the man, my magic becoming exhausted. It was much more difficult to possess a person than a rat. Just as I darted into the shadows, I separated from the soldier. I slunk behind the stables and back into the wilds of Skyrim as the soldier doubled over and began vomiting, totally unaware of my escape.

* * *


	14. The Safety of Whiterun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virard has a suspicion that the Dragonborn had been in Whiterun, and confronts Balgruuf.

* * *

* * *

            "Care to explain yourself, Jarl?" 

            I awoke to a nasally voice. Virard Secidicus was leaning over me in my chambers. 

            "Explain what?" I asked, half-asleep but fully aware of what he was talking about. My eyes flickered upwards on their own accord as I remembered the dead man sitting on top of the roof. 

            "Amaund Motierre, an asset to the Empire, has been found dead in an alleyway. The guards have no idea what happened, though I have a funny feeling you know exactly who did it," The Imperial said, his voice searing through my head like a fork scratching against a plate. 

            "Motierre was the crazy one, right?" I replied, sitting up, "How do you know he didn't just off himself?" 

            "His throat was cut neatly," Virard replied. "Somebody adept with a blade had clearly snuck up on him." 

            I sighed. "What are you trying to ask me, Virard?" I asked, irritated and exhausted. 

            "Did she visit you?" He asked. 

            "Did who visit me?" I exclaimed, putting on my best act of obliviousness.

            Virard was getting agitated now. "Don't act as if you don't know, Balgruuf! Clearly the Dragonborn was behind the attack, and I'm assuming you helped her," He said. 

            "I don't know what you're talking about, Virard," I said, shaking my head, "but I haven't seen Indra since she left to garner support for me. Why in Oblivion would she want to kill a crazy old man, anyway?" 

            "That's none of your concern," The Imperial replied, scowling at me underneath his quill-thin mustache. 

            "Well, I think it is, seeing as a civilian was attacked in my own city," I argued. 

            The emissary's eyes narrowed. "Let's just say, he had a pivotal role in the Empire's plans for security, meaning that the attack was not a random one; he was targeted by someone trying to get more information." 

            I frowned at the man, but declined to press him further. I was likely not going to get anything more out of him, so I changed topics. "How much longer do you and your soldiers need to be in Whiterun?" I asked. 

            "Once we are certain of the outcome of the war, we will retreat from within the walls of Whiterun, but until then, we're staying right where we are, whether you like it or not," Virard replied. "It's for your own protection, really," He finished, feigning a sigh of concern. 

            I laughed at his words. My own protection? I was perfectly safe before all this, even in the midst of a war. It was the Empire's presence in my town that had made it dangerous to be here. The Stormcloaks were preparing to attack Solitude, and if they were successful, Whiterun was next. With the appearance of having aligned myself with the Empire, my city was now a target. 

            "What's so funny, Jarl?" The Imperial asked, turning up his nose towards me. 

            "Oh, nothing," I chuckled, "I'm just considering how ironic what you just said was." 

            Virard crossed his arms and scowled at me again. It was as if his face was stuck in constant displeasure. "The Dragonborn is not your ally anymore, Balgruuf," He said. "She's a dangerous rebel. We've sent some of our best scouts after her with the intention of halting any more of her recklessness." 

            "I thought you said she wasn't in any danger!" I exclaimed, shocked he would make such a dishonorable order. 

            "She's not," He tsked, "if they manage to catch her, they will only bring her in for questioning." 

            "So she'll be your prisoner, then." I said coldly, crossing my arms to mirror Virard's. 

            The Imperial emissary sighed. "She's becoming unraveled. It's in the best interest for Skyrim that she doesn't do more harm to the state of current politics." 

           I could think of nothing else to say to counter Virard. I supposed Indra had brought about destabilization to the province, yet she had also forced both sides to reconsider what they believed was important to their people. Could one concept exist without the other? Would the next leader of Skyrim take their people's values to heart? Would that leader be me? Worry slashed through my stomach again, as it had chronically done so in bursts for the past few months. Keeping me awake, making me lose my appetite, or having the exact opposite effect; causing me to sleep for an absurdly long time, or mindlessly eat whatever was within reach. This had to come to an end, and, seeing as the Stormcloaks were gearing up for something big, I had a feeling it soon would. 

* * *


	15. Dream Sequence 2

* * *

* * *

            I see the Emperor as he was when he lived. He is sitting in a grand chair aboard a large ship, at port in Solitude. A shadow appears in the room. I see an arrow fire, straight through his chest, piercing his heart, but it does not stop there. The arrow travels through the night sky with his heart attached, and lands in the sea. It continues to beat, hot and red. His body is now in two pieces, and floats into the dark sky. Coin exchanges hands. A man mourns the loss of his friend. The shadow that killed the Emperor is on fire, gone forever.

* * *


	16. Shifting Alliances

* * *

* * *

            Lying down in my bedroll under the cover of an overhanging rock ledge, I was just opening my eyes from troubled sleep, when the world suddenly tipped on a steep angle, and I began sliding off its surface. I desperately clawed at the ground, trying to stop the terrifying descent, but to no avail. I was falling away from Tamriel, into the grey. 

            "What, you didn't think I couldn't pull you in here whenever I wanted?" Aventus asked as I landed in front of him, fully clothed now. He looked different, again. His eyes darker, his demeanor more misanthropic and his general appearance...older. 

            "I didn't know you'd have any reason to," I replied, rubbing my face. 

            Aventus disappeared in smoke and shards, then re-appeared directly in front of me, no further than a single pace from where I stood. Normally, when a living person placed themselves in a position so close to me, I could feel wisps of their body heat radiating from them. I felt nothing of the sort from the boy. 

            "You still haven't carved any runes for me," He said coldly, sticking his neck out so his nose was almost pressed against mine. 

            "Well, sorry," I shrugged, not intimidated by the young man I had considered a friend when he lived, yet feeling slightly guilty. "I haven't exactly had much time, and that lead you gave me went nowhere. Motierre was mad, and now he's dead." 

            "As is the Dark Brotherhood member who killed him," Aventus smiled, pulling away from me. "Funny how that works, eh?" Why did that finishing comment sound so familiar? I didn't dwell long on that thought as I simultaneously realized that I had no more potentially reliable sources of information. 

            "Great," I sighed, "so I can't even visit them to ask why they did it." 

            "You already know why," Aventus said, stepping backwards away from me, with his hands clasped behind his back. 

            "No, I don't," I said, putting my hands on my hips in slight irritation. 

            "You mean to tell me you didn't just have a dream about it?" 

            Gods, how did he know such things? 

            "I only dreamt of the Emperor's death, not who did it nor why. Can't you just tell me what's going on?" 

            "Oh no, that's not why I was sent to this place," Aventus replied. "An agent of Sithis only inspires change. I'm not meant to just hand out knowledge, like some common Daedra; I'm not Hermaeus Mora, after all. Besides," Aventus said, somewhat more amiably, "I'm sure you can figure it out." As soon as he had finished speaking, the Void started to dissipate. He was sending me back to Nirn. "Carve me some runes, Indra." 

            Fucking kid and his fucking riddles I thought, watching the vapour from my breath rise up around me. I was now lying in my actual bedroll, in a real forest. What had I dreamt of? The Emperor died, and his heart stayed alive, at the bottom of the sea. His body turned into some kind of celestial beings. Why was the Emperor serving as a proxy for the lost god in my mind? Perhaps these were just the effects of being touched by Sithis. 

            Speaking of which, I had promised Aventus I would create a shrine to him. Perhaps doing so would inspire him to assist me with a little more than vague clues and dead ends. I crawled out of my bedroll, shivering in the morning fog. I had been camping deep within the woods, trying my best to stay hidden. Who knew who was after me these days. The Empire? The Stormcloaks? Disgruntled citizens who thought I was guilty of propagating the war? As I was packing up, I heard a twig snap in the woods nearby. As I felt my ears prick up in alarm, I stopped moving and glanced around the quiet morning woods, watching for any signs of trouble. A doe sprinted past in the distance shortly thereafter. 

* * *

            An hour later, I had scaled a small cliff and now I knelt in a damp cave, staring down at a smooth rock in my marked hand.

            "How in Oblivion am I supposed to carve a fucking stone without a chisel?" I muttered to myself. As I pondered this task, the weak sunlight pouring in through the cave was suddenly obscured by moving figures, mottling my sight. I looked over my shoulder as two Imperial scouts walked through the small entrance. 

            "Stand down and come with us," One said, raising her short sword towards me as the other drew his bow. 

            "Why should I?" I asked, standing up and dropping the rock. 

            I could hear the sinew of the archer's bow creaking as he pulled his elbow back even further. "The Empire has matters it wishes to discuss with you," The female scout answered. 

            I turned so I was fully facing the soldiers. "The last time the Empire had a discussion with me, one of my friends ended up dead by their hands," I said, anger at Valor's death creating a fire behind my eyes. 

            "You can be assured that nothing of the sort will happen to you," She replied. Her voice was cold and mechanical. 

            "Oh, you want me to trust you, is that it?" Rage was building up inside me, making me sweat despite the chill of the cave. 

            "We have nothing to gain from killing you. Now, come quietly, or we will take you by force." 

            "No fucking way," I snarled, taking out my daggers and readying my stance. The archer released a warning shot at my feet. I looked down at the arrow, and back up at the soldiers. I remembered how the Empire killed Valor, how they blamed me for a rebellion, and then stole the very idea that ignited the revolt, taking my only hope for helping the province hostage in the meantime. Blind fury began boiling in my chest, starting just under my heart and working its way towards my face, making the back of my head and neck sting with heat. 

            I Blinked behind the soldier with the bow, and cut his throat. The female scout turned around and swung at me before I had a chance to react, slicing my arm through my gauntlet. The pain only made me angrier, so much so that my vision was becoming blurred. Despite the physical heat from the blood that pumped violently through my body, I was otherwise cold. My thoughts were numb, and my heart was stilled. I remember nothing more of that moment other than shoving the Imperial's heaving figure over a steep cliff and hearing her body crack over the rocks at the bottom. 

            Blood was dripping from my arm, running past the glowing mark and splattering the grass and branches on the ground where I stood, staring down at the shattered and mangled remains of the soldier. As it rolled across a smooth stone, it began to quiver and run together. The droplets had a mind of their own, finding each other and then taking on a new form in the same shape of the mark that was on my hand. It started to glow, and soon the black liquid scorched the symbol into the rock in a deep, sinister scar. I bent down and picked up the rune. It just looked like a carved piece of rock. 

            "I hope whoever finds you doesn't also become ruined by you," I said quietly, running my fingers over the marred surface of the stone. "Is this who I am?" I asked the ominous-looking rock, "Or am I a result of my actions? Have I ever truly been in control of my fate?" The idea that everything that had happened, and anything that would happen in the future was preconceived filled me with such sadness. This was it; this was what the world had in store for me. I carried the rune back to the cave, and placed it on top of a small pile of other rocks. I wrapped my wound in a rag and began walking across the escarpment, sauntering down the steep slopes leading to Eastmarch. Just as I approached a small, dark, grove of pine trees, I could hear a bubbling noise from the forest shadows. Smoke began to rise from the darkness, and a few seconds later Shadowmere was standing among the green boughs, red eyes looking down at me in cold tranquility. I reached out for him, and he walked towards me, turning so that I could hoist myself up in his saddle. I supposed Aventus had sent him to me. We coalesced into the wind, and began the silent ride to Windhelm. 

* * *

            I dismounted far before we reached the gates of the ancient city, allowing the great black horse to retreat into the side of a nearby mountain. It was nightfall when I arrived at the massive entrance, where the guards allowed me to pass after gracing me with a nod of recognition. I rented a room at Candlehearth Hall, deciding I would go to the Palace of the Kings when I awoke. Some people looked at me with apprehensive curiosity, while others raised their mugs to me as I sat and ate charred venison and broiled vegetables. They knew my rebellion was at odds with the Empire, though I had no idea of its relationship with Ulfric's forces.

            Early the next morning, I stood before Jarl Stormcloak in the cold stone palace, bathed in the pale Northern light that struggled to enter through the narrow windows. I was surprised Ulfric was already tending to his daily issues, but the steward informed me that he did not sleep much these days. He did not appear to be tired, and seemed pleased that I had returned. 

            "Have you made a decision yet, Dragonborn?" He said as he entered the great hall from his war room, getting straight to the point of my visit. 

            "Perhaps. What have the interactions between my army and yours been like?" I asked. I was curious to learn whether or not he had been fighting the other rebels. Just the thought of their efforts overwhelmed me with nervous cramps through my stomach. How could a person that did the things I had done be an inspiration to the people? 

            "Altogether quite congenial," Ulfric replied, the smile on his face motivated by what I now recognized as pomposity. "You may not be aware of this, but I have been sending what men I can spare to your armies." 

            That wasn't the answer I had anticipated, and my face scrunched up in confusion. "Really? Why would you do that?" 

            "I figured it would be better if the Empire was obliged to spread thin their efforts," The Bear said, settling into his throne. "It worked, and their forces have been weakened enough that Solitude is now in a state that will allow it to be penetrable...that is, it can be, with your help." 

            I frowned at him. "Did you do what you did out of generosity and goodwill, or because you knew I would feel indebted to you?" I asked, far past being worried about offending him. 

            Ulfric laughed, his voice booming through the hall, making it feel even colder. "A bit of both, I suppose. So, what do you say?" 

            "I don't think I have much of a choice at this point," I sighed. "I don't trust the Empire one bit. They say they will put Balgruuf on the throne at the Blue Palace, but they know that's what I wanted to do originally. It's as if they're baiting me." 

            "And why did you want Balgruuf to rule over Skyrim, then?" Ulfric asked, leaning towards me as he rested his elbows on his knees. 

            "Because he's the only leader with any sense around here!" I exclaimed, but immediately realized the implications of what I had said after Ulfric's curious stare darkened. "Sorry, I meant, he has centralist views that will make everyone in Skyrim happy, for the most part." 

            Ulfric continued to frown at me. "You can never make everyone happy, Dragonborn. You can only take care of your people in the way you know how, and hope any unrest will be settled with specific concessions." 

            I shifted my weight to one foot as I thought about what he said. "Are you saying you still plan on seceding from the Empire? You know your people will suffer in the long term, right?" 

            "Suffering of the body is a small price to pay for pride and honour. I do still plan on making Skyrim a sovereign nation, but perhaps you can help me strengthen ties with other regions through diplomacy." 

            "Will you actually hear me out on issues? Like fixing the Grey Quarter?" I asked, thinking of how Teldryn had mentioned he had lived in that wretched place for a while, before he made Voden's basement his home. 

            "That can be my first decree," Ulfric replied. I saw no hint of dishonesty in his cold eyes. 

            I thought long and hard about this offer. Ulfric didn't remove his gaze from mine as I weighed out all my options. I could submit to the Empire and see Balgruuf be High King, and likely become their prisoner, or at the very least their servant, to what end I did not know. I could also run away to hide back home on Solstheim, letting the two sides wear each other down until the victor was crowed King Turd of Shit Mountain, what with the likely future state of the province...Or I could join Ulfric and let my birthright as Dragonborn sway him in directions I saw fit, though I had some doubts about how well he would listen to a half-Dunmer. 

            "Alright," I said, looking back at the tall Nord. "I'll help you." 

            Ulfric's wolfish eyes narrowed into icy slits as he smiled in the pleasure of finally getting what he wanted. 

            "Excellent." He said, relishing my words, "I will send word to our squadrons immediately. In four weeks time, we march on Solitude." 

* * *


	17. Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric sends Galmar and Indra to retrieve the Jagged Crown. Some secrets are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, didn't get a chance to make a few comments when I uploaded the other day. First off, I apologize it's taken so long to get this out, shit has been crazy lately. Secondly, thanks for following along so far, and shoutouts to Twillimew for their consistent feedback, as well as yaminodatenshi and a bunch of guests for leaving kudos! You guys rock!

* * *

* * *

            The Palace of the Kings had become my temporary home until Ulfric and my armies had all received word of the impending siege upon Solitude in a month's time, and had gathered up enough weapons and supplies to make the final push. I hated the way it was always cold and drafty, despite the ever burning fires, and I was sure I was the only one among the palace residents that even noticed just how chilly it was. Everybody else that lived or worked within these walls had gotten used to the frosty air that seeped into every nook and cranny, or perhaps they never even considered it was uncomfortable, either by being Nord, or having lived in Windhelm all their lives. I envied the full-blooded Dunmer that were able to warm themselves with their Ancestor's Wrath if they ever got truly desperate. While being half-bred had its advantages, not acquiring the intrinsic ability from either Nord or Dunmer was certainly not one of them. All I could do for now was wrap myself in as many furs as I could find before going to bed or being sedentary for any amount of time. Ulfric had invited me to stay in his personal quarters, and while I agreed for the sake of appearances (and a personal fireplace), I insisted that I sleep in a cot, far away from his bed. When I made this request, the Jarl almost looked offended, but at least had the grace to agree to my stipulation. 

            Two evenings after I had arrived in Windhelm, I was sitting by the hearth in our shared chamber after dinner, when the steward, Jorlief, entered the room and ask that I follow him. He led me downstairs, past the main hall, and into the war room. As we walked down the short hallway, I could hear the soft echoes of Ulfric and Galmar Stone-Fist, the second-in-command, talking over the table. 

            "You're certain you've found it?" Ulfric asked, sounding simultaneously excited and suspicious. 

            "When have I ever been false with you?" I heard Galmar reply. 

            The two men turned their attention to me as I entered the room, led by Jorlief. 

            "What's this about?" I asked as the steward left the room. 

            "Galmar thinks he knows where to find the Jagged Crown," Ulfric said, "though I have my doubts." 

            "It'll be there, you'll see," Galmar insisted. 

            "What's the Jagged Crown? And why did you invite me in here?" I inquired as I joined the men at the table. 

            "It's a symbol of leadership and power for High Kings. It will help legitimize my claim to the throne, when we take Solitude," Ulfric replied, "but I am unsure of whether or not it even exists. Galmar here thinks he knows where it's located, but I have too much to do in preparation for next month and cannot accompany him. Would you be up for crawling around in some moldering cave to find an ancient relic?" 

            "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to do such a thing," I replied, thinking of Alftand. "But why do you want to send me along for the journey?" 

            "Think of it as the first mission we will undertake as allies, before we fight together on the fields of Haafingar," Ulfric replied, walking closer to me. "As High Queen beside me, you will be a warrior queen, and my men need to know that you are as competent as they hope. They will fight with even more courage and fire if they truly know who and what they are serving." 

            "Alright, fine," I shrugged, ignoring Ulfric's strangely poetic description of who he believed I was. Besides, it wasn't as if I had anything better to do for the next month. 

            "Excellent," Galmar said only a split second after my reply, immediately grabbing a piece of parchment and hastily forming an agenda. "We will leave tomorrow. Don't worry about procuring or carrying any supplies, my men will take care of that. Just meet us near the stables at dawn. You will need a horse, I assume?" 

            "Actually, no," I replied after a small pause, "I've got that taken care of." 

            The next morning, a small group of Stormcloak soldiers were loading up several horses at the stables, the vapour from their heavy breaths illuminated by the summer sun peeking over the mountaintops. Despite my loathing of the climate, I couldn't deny that a Northern sunrise was one of the most beautiful natural phenomena to occur on Nirn, especially when it fell across a fresh snowfall. 

            "Ah, good, you made it," Galmar said in greeting as he looked up from the map he and a few other soldiers were huddled around. "Where's your weapon?" He asked, leaning to one side, trying to look at my back. Shivering slightly, I moved my cloak aside to reveal the two Elven daggers hitched to my belt. "Ha!" The Nord laughed, seeing my choice of blades, "What do you expect to carve with those little kitchen knives?" 

            "They've served me fine up until now," I replied, "what does it matter, anyway?" 

            "True Nords favour proper steel. Don't you at least own a battleaxe?" 

            "No," 

            "Well why in Oblivion not?" 

            "I...I'm not any good with two-handed weapons," I replied quietly, feeling a slight flush creep up my neck. 

            "By Ysmir," Galmar breathed, "a daughter of a Nord, the Dragonborn, and an ally to the Stormcloaks doesn't know how to wield a greatsword?" 

            "Just leave it alone," I snapped, recalling my father's taunting at the same weakness, and becoming even more flustered by the the name Galmar had uttered in shock at my expense. Damn Greybeards expecting me to live up to previous Dovahkiin like Talos, I thought. "I'm good enough with a bow that I seldom even get close enough to an enemy to use a blade, anyway." 

            "Of course you are, you're an elf," Galmar replied, not with any malice or hidden dislike, just as a matter-of-fact statement. Whether he intentionally ignored the fact that I was only half-elf, and that Dunmer weren't known to be proficient archers eluded me. I let it go, but not before noisily exhaling through my nose. 

            "Anyway, the reason I'm here is to ask you to mark the location of the ruins on my map," I said, now somewhat calmer as I dug into my satchel for my map. 

            "Certainly," Galmar replied, "though I don't plan on our group becoming separated. I assume you just want a spare copy?" 

            "No," I said, "I plan on meeting you there." 

            "Alright," Galmar replied slowly, looking at me through narrowed eyes. Despite this, he took out a piece of charcoal and made a small circle on the worn chart. 

            "I'm not going to steal the crown for myself," I said as I quickly folded the piece of paper bag into my satchel. "I'm just sick of telling everyone about what happened in Sovngarde, and would prefer to ride alone." The truth was more so that I had felt unsettled at the end of the ethereal battle, and also didn't feel as if the whole endeavour was worth bragging about. The feeling had continued to build every time I re-told the story. 

            "Fine. I see no harm in your decision. Is your mount saddled at the stable?" 

            "Yes," I replied after several seconds, but of course this was not true. 

            When the small group of soldiers had turned their attention away from me, I walked towards the closest mountain, and headed for a spot where the sun did not touch, where it was still as cold as the darkest part of the night. There I found Shadowmere, who looked at me with red eyes that reminded me of the Dunmer back home. I had only really seen him in the dark before, and didn't realize until now just how black he was. It was as if he absorbed every ray of light that came near him, so much so I could barely see his musculature. Seeing as I had no intentions of making forced pleasantries with the soldiers, I mounted the loyal horse and sped past the group, towards Korvanjund. 

* * *

            As I came upon the area where the ruins were thought to be located, I saw the smoke of several fires rising up around what appeared to be a large basin. Getting closer, I realized that an Imperial detachment was camped just outside of the ruins that we were headed for, and I stopped Shadowmere to dismount, hiding him in the shadows of the forest. Creeping closer now, darting from tree cover to tree cover, I surveyed the area. At least twenty soldiers were milling about the camp, and it seemed more were down near the ruins themselves. I ran back to my steed and rushed back along the path.

            About half an hour later I rode up to Galmar and the Stormcloak soldiers, waving wildly towards them from a distance. Galmar held up his fist to stop the movement of his men once he recognized who it was riding towards his group in such a hurry. 

            "What is it, Dragonborn?" Galmar asked, looking confused. 

            "Imperial soldiers," I panted, winded from controlling Shadowmere's sprint. "They've been set up at the ruins for a while now. They must also be looking for the Jagged Crown." 

            "How far ahead?" Another man asked, "And how do we know we can trust you?" 

            "Ralof!" Galmar bellowed, "she has plenty of reasons to despise the Imperials, just as many as you." 

            "Another two hours, at your pace," I replied, ignoring Ralof and eyeing Galmar, wondering how he knew about what went on between myself and The Empire. 

            "And at _your_ pace?" Galmar asked, raising an eyebrow. 

            "It took me about thirty minutes to get here," 

            "Gods," Galmar exclaimed, looking at my horse now. "How in Oblivion is your steed so swift?" He likely had an inkling that Shadowmere had some kind of intrinsic magic, yet was not aware of just how cursed the stallion was. If the Nord had known about either my only companion or myself, he may not have come to my defense so quickly a minute ago. "That aside, if what you say is true, we need to prepare to attack the soldiers outside, without drawing attention from the group inside the ruins. We will make camp in another hour so that we have enough time and land to formulate a plan, then spring upon those milk-drinkers in the morning." 

            Two hours later, I was boiling a pot of water over a fire for some trama root tea, surrounded by Stormcloak soldiers who shoved mouthfuls of roasted chicken into their mouths, and washed it down with weak ale. Their rowdiness made me reluctant in joining them for dinner, so I settled on having tea then and food alone, later. I supposed Galmar had told them I wished to be left alone, which was a welcome relief. As I held a small tankard and poured the hot water onto the shriveled plants, the man named Ralof tapped me on the shoulder. 

            "Your presence is requested by Galmar," He said, immediately turning around and walking away after he had delivered this message to me. 

            "Wait," I called after him, setting my mug aside, "where is he?" Without turning around, he beckoned me with the wave of his arm as he stomped away. I stood up and ran after him, following him into the tent where Galmar was peering over a regional map spread across a table that had clearly been assembled and disassembled several times, what with all the nicks and scratches across the legs. 

            "Ah, good, you're here. I could use your input," He said, looking up to me. 

            "I don't think I'm the one to ask about that," I replied, holding up my hands. 

            "First you don't want to use a battleaxe, now you don't want to talk about how to best our enemies? What kind of daughter of Skyrim are you?" 

            "Technically, I'm a daughter of Morrowind," I heard Ralof grunt and I shot him a dirty look. "But the reason I'm uncertain about this is because I haven't led any armies into any kind of battle." 

            "For now, I only need you to tell me where you saw the soldiers," Galmar said. That was fair, I thought, as he hadn't seen them himself. 

            "There were two groups. Here, and here," I said, pointing to the map. 

            "What do you think we should do to defeat them, Dragonborn?" Galmar asked, apparently wanting to test my strategic potential, which, of course, I did not have. 

            "I don't know," I shrugged, "like I said, I've never done this before." 

            "Fine. Then stand by and learn," Galmar grumbled, looking back down at the table. "If we can draw attention from here at the same time our archers take out the Imperials down in the basin of the ruins, that should stop the ones from inside from coming out, giving us more time against fewer opponents." 

            Ralof nodded in agreement, adding, "We need a signal, then." 

            "It will have to be silent," Galmar replied, scratching his chin through his massive beard. "Perhaps a flaming arrow? Would that be large enough?" 

            "Why not shoot a firebolt skyward?" I suggested, thinking back to the Sea Tiger. 

            "You think any of us here practice magic, elf?" Ralof spat. 

            "At ease, Ralof," Galmar calmly retorted. "Despite the implied treachery in all forms of magicka, that's not a bad idea, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Can you do such a thing, Dragonborn?" 

            "Yes," I replied, feeling a bit self-conscious about my magicka ability among the Nords. 

            "Then it will be up to you to give the signal to attack once everyone is in place. This means you'll have to find a spot to give the signal, without being seen. Do you understand?" Galmar asked, frowning at me. I nodded. "Right, good. Get some rest, and we'll brief the soldiers tomorrow at dawn." 

* * *

            The next morning, our small army walked through the forest towards Korvanjund, leaving our horses a ways from the final push towards the ruins so that we might be more quiet and less easy to spot. A scout informed us that the Imperial detachment was set up in the same formation as the day before; several soldiers in the hole in the ground, and several more off to one side. I had hoped that this indication of my honesty would put Ralof's mind at ease, at least a little. Our group then split in half, where the swordsmen set off to attack the Imperials situated on the high ground, and the archers started to get in place to attack the soldiers in the basin. I had to get to a high vantage point so that I could see both of our groups, and know when to release the signal. 

            I crept through the forest towards the ruins as the Stormcloak soldiers did the same nearby. After the archers stopped to take their positions, I continued onwards to circle around the rear point of Korvanjund, where a large stone carving would obscure my movements from both the Imperials as well as the Stormcloaks. Remaining hidden from the latter group was equally as important, as I planned on Blinking up to the top of the carving. Once I was out of sight, I let Aventus's mark guide me up the stone, and crouched in position, my eyes settling on the soldiers moving through the forest on the other side. I then saw Galmar appear from the woods where the archers had stopped, and raised his arm as he nodded towards me. Taking a deep breath, I summoned a fireball and let it loose skywards. 

            As I took out my bow and readied an arrow, I saw Stormcloak soldiers run out of the woods in two separate groups, attacking the Imperials without warning. I couldn't spare the time to take a pause of relief as I began joining their efforts, helping the archers rain arrows down on the Imperials that were sitting ducks at the bottom of the basin. After we quickly finished off the soldiers below, we made our way towards the snow covered plains where steel clashed against steel, thin armor, or wooden shields, and blood was freezing in clots on the ice. 

            The stealth approach had worked. We now outnumbered the Imperials by at least five to one, and easily cut down their few remaining warriors. However, it had taken a toll on our men and women as well, as I saw blue cuirasses and the slumped bodies that wore them intermingled with red and brown armor on the battlefield. Just as Galmar was driving his heavy battleaxe through the chestplate of the last Imperial, we heard something new and entirely unexpected, but not alien. 

            "What is that...wait," Galmar said quietly, his eyes searching for movement in the nearby forest. It sounded like thunder, but it was coming from the woods in the opposite direction we had arrived in. I thought I heard Ralof utter an "oh, shit," right before we all realized what was happening. Just as the rest of our soldiers had gotten a chance to comprehend the noise, Imperial calvary came galloping out of the forest on the other side of the field where we stood, charging at us with their weapons drawn. Judging by the noise and their well-organized approach, there were at least eighty of them, and Galmar immediately made the best decision he could have, given the circumstances. 

            "FALL BACK!" He yelled to the few Stormcloaks that still stood, waving his arms towards the forest. 

            We turned and began running for our lives, zig zagging around trees, jumping over roots, fallen logs, and small streams, and ducking under branches as we ran. The Imperial soldiers caught up to the slowest of us after a few minutes, cutting the Stormcloaks down from atop their horses. As I ran, spasms of fear ran in jolts up and down my back and I couldn't think of anything else but putting one foot securely in front of the other, trying not to roll an ankle. Despite this focus, something else forced its way to the forefront of my mind. They knew we were coming. Just as this thought swept through my consciousness, I lost my footing and began tumbling down a short, steep cliff, rolling ass over teakettle until I reached the bottom. I thanked Azura for the climate, as even though I was disoriented and bruised, I would have no doubt suffered far worse without the fresh snow to break my fall. 

            Nobody else was with me at the bottom of the small escarpment, and I could still hear the thumping of hooves and the screams of Ulfric's men being slaughtered as they ran. I didn't know what to do, and I began asking myself questions in my rattled state. Did I climb back up and chase the Imperials? Could I try shouting at them? There were too many of them, I would only draw attention to myself and become swarmed in seconds. Did I stay here and hide from them? Did I run away in the other direction? No, I needed help, who could help me? At this point, there was only one that could offer any meaningful assistance. 

            _OD AH VIING_

            The great red dragon was as swift as I had remembered him, and he appeared in the clearing where I had fallen after only several hand-wringing minutes. I briefly wondered if he was keeping tabs on me. 

            "Hail dovahkiin, hi lost callaan zu'u ko aan tiid do need, zu'u see," ( _Hail Dovahkiin, you have called me in a time of need, I see,_ ) 

            "Yes, please, we need to attack the Imperial soldiers on horses," I replied, knowing they would eventually make their way out of the forest and onto the plains East. 

            "Zu'u lost Niid place ko fin quarrelle do Muz, Nuz zu'u lost pledgaan zu'u fah hin assistance. Climb Nau, ahrk Mu fen bo." ( _I have no place in the quarrels of men, but I have pledged myself for your assistance. Climb on, and we will fly._ ) 

            The hunter bowed his head and I quickly scrambled up, holding onto his jutting scales as we lifted into the sky. I guided him in the direction I last saw the soldiers, and I soon caught sight of them making their way through the trees, rapidly approaching the edge of the forest. A fair number of Stormcloaks had managed to get their horses, and now it was a fair chase. 

            "There!" I yelled, pulling Odahviings neck in their direction. 

            "What shall I do when we come upon them, Dragonborn?" 

            "Anything! Burn them, freeze them, I don't care! Just get rid of them! I'll help you! 

            The snow wing hunter kept his promise, and soon we were catching up with the horses from behind as Odahviing opened his mouth and shouted a stream of scorching fire along the ground. As we flew over the Imperials, the long surge of flames passed over them, and they rolled off their horses, flailing as they tried to put out the blistering conflagrations. I shot lightning down from above, blasting the soldiers from their mounts to let the now emboldened Stormcloaks at them as the dragon cleaned up the groups of Imperial soldiers that clumped together, his voice disintegrating the small crowds in one fell swoop. 

            After what felt like hours of flying on Odahviing, squeezing my legs so that I wouldn't fall as I inhaled the thick smoke from the forest fire, watching figures below writhe in agony as they burned alive, it was finally over. Once I could see Galmar put his weapon down, I beckoned Odahviing to land in a clearing nearby and crawled off of him with numbed arms. It wasn't until I had bid farewell to the hunter with all the words of thanks and praise I could think of did I realize I was shaking. It felt like the first time I had seen Teldryn cut down that mercenary in front of me, or the first time I had actually stuck my small blade through the ribs of a hired thug in Glowstone. It didn't matter if it was one man or one hundred, near or far, a new version of death still had me wracked with shock and guilt. 

            "Thanks be to Talos we had you with us," Galmar breathed as he limped closer to me. 

            "Is this really worth it for a crown?" I asked, my words coming out in waves of differing volume. 

            "Where in Oblivion did they come from?" I heard Ralof shout from behind me. He staggered up to us, covered in blood and dirt, and dragging his large sword from a limp arm behind him. "How could they have known we were coming? You must have ridden ahead and told them!" He exclaimed, pointing at me with his free hand as he drew closer. 

            "That's enough Ralof," Galmar growled, too tired to yell, but I didn't need him standing up for me this time. 

            "How could you suggest such a thing!" I screamed, running up to Ralof and shoving his shoulders backwards as hard as I could manage, and I saw him wince. Tears had started to well up behind my eyes, and I could barely catch my breath. "Do you know how many men I just killed? Do you think I could justify doing that for a godsdamned crown? Asking a dragon to do my dirty work for the likes of your stupid fucking king?" 

            "Alright Indra, that's quite enough," Galmar said, realizing I was right to be angry, but wasn't about to let someone disgrace Ulfric's name. 

            "No, it's not," I snapped, wiping at my face with a rough sleeve, shaking even harder now. "I could have run away to leave you all to die, but I asked a _dragon_ , not just _any_ dragon, one of Alduin's _generals_ , to help you, and for what? Some fucking apish ingrate to question my motives?" 

            Ralof was still scowling at me from behind a filthy visage, but remained silent as Galmar eyed him through a swollen lid. I was still breathing heavily as I thought about what I had done. I thought I should have been happy about wiping out as many Imperial soldiers as I did, but now that I had had some semblance of revenge, all I felt was remorse, again, as usual. I couldn't escape the feeling, which somehow made it even worse. I was supposed to be used to this life; one where I was meant to fiercely cut down my evil enemies with a strong, wide slash of a beautiful blade that had some rare enchantment, wearing shining, ornate armor, walking into rooms full of people that greeted me with a deep bow. Isn't that what heroes did? This fantasy was never what I wanted, mind you, but here I was instead, hated by The Empire, likely lukewarm to the Stormcloaks, standing in a blackened and smoldering field that was covered in charred corpses, wearing fraying, dirty robes and cry-yelling at some stupid Nord that still thought I was trying to undermine his faction. Despite all my efforts, despite my title and birthright, despite, despite, despite. All for a fucking pretty thing for Ulfric to wear so he could feel like more of a man. 

            "We need to press on," Galmar finally said, "we will return to the woods near Korvanjund today, and take another stab at the crown tomorrow. If we get as far as possible into the ruins today, we can set up traps if any more detachments are sent out." 

            "We can't possibly do all that again!" Ralof exclaimed, leaning on the hilt of his blade that he had driven into the snow at his feet. 

            "It's not likely that The Empire will spare many more men for this endeavour. I think we will be fine. Let's go." 

            The three of us, plus the handful of wide-eyed Stormcloaks that had survived the onslaught trudged back through the forest towards the ruins, stepping and tripping over the bodies of their fallen friends. When we stopped to make camp in the woods, the soldiers exchanged only a few words, and no ale was shared among them. 

* * *

            The next morning, we were finally face to face with the doors of Korvanjund ruins and, after pushing a few stiff bodies aside, found the inner structure to be easily accessible. Torches had been lit around the grand, but crumbling entranceway, and Galmar signaled his few remaining soldiers to be quiet. We silently unsheathed our weapons and crept further down the initial hall of the dimly lit crypt. After about one hundred paces, the narrow tunnel opened up into a larger enclosure where the majority of the area was below where we stood, at least a man's height down. This part of the ruins looked as if it had recently been lived in. A number of bedrolls had been spread over the stone floor, and the remnants of meals were strewn along jutting rocks in the centre of the room. We didn't see, nor hear, anyone, and we continued to press on. The crypt led us downwards, always downwards, through narrow hallways and past altars, large sconces and carved stone. Eventually, we reached a long hallway that terminated in a wall with familiar circular structures. 

            "I've seen one of these before," I said, walking closer to the wall alongside Galmar and Ralof. 

            "I've heard of this type of puzzle door before," Galmar said, "though I've never seen one myself." 

            As we drew closer, we noticed two very dead Imperial soldiers lying at the foot of the wall, and a claw-shaped relic was clutched in the right hand of one. I squatted down to pry it out of his fingers. It was very similar to the one that Teldryn and I used in Shroud Hearth Barrow, but it was a different colour and had different symbols. I felt my chest squeeze tight with nostalgia, but brushed the feeling aside. There was too much to be done about the war to have time for reminiscence. 

            "We need this," I said, standing back up and looking at the animal symbols embedded on the palm, then pushing the door in the correct order before inserting the claw. I heard the Stormcloaks quietly chat among themselves as the door fell open, and we stepped into the tomb and began walking through the musty air towards the inner sanctum. As we walked, I looked back down at the claw. This time, the animals were different - the impressions of a fox, a dragon and a moth were engraved into the relic. "Galmar," I said, still looking at the claw, "what do the animal symbols mean, and how many of them are there?" 

            "They each represent one of the divines," He replied, stopping to gently take the claw from my hands, and I stood beside him as the soldiers and Ralof cautiously pressed on. "The fox here is Orkey, the moth is Dibella and of course the Dragon is Akatosh, as you likely know." 

            "The last claw and door I saw like this had different animals on them. How did the ancient Nords decide which ones they would put where?" 

            "Three symbols together always tell a story," Galmar said, turning the claw over in his huge hands. "I am unfamiliar with this particular one, but there is a famous one that almost anyone living in Skyrim knows of." 

            "What would that be?" I asked, and Galmar's eyes met mine. 

            "The one of St. Alessia, the first Dragonborn." 

            "She made a covenant with Akatosh to end the oppression of the Ayleids, right?" I said, recalling Esbern's teachings. 

            "This is true," Galmar replied, "but she had help from two others: Morihaus-Breath-of-Kyne, and Pelinal Whitestrake. Morihaus was an incarnation of Kynareth, and Whitestrake was a Shezarrine, an avatar of Shor. Their story is told in the three symbols that often appear together, those being the Dragon, the Snake and the Eagle." 

            "I haven't seen those symbols together, yet," I said, "but I have heard a bit about St. Alessia. I didn't know about her companions, though." 

            "I suppose they were out of the spotlight in comparison to Alessia," Galmar chuckled, "but they were very important to her, Morihaus even more so, as he was the love of her life." 

            I was about to ask Galmar about the Amulet of the Kings, but we were interrupted by shouts of alarm from deeper within the crypt. When we rounded the corner, the few remaining Stormcloaks were battling with a draugr that was bigger and stronger than I had ever seen before. And it was wearing the crown. One soldier had already fallen victim to a deep, oozing chest wound as Galmar and I ran towards the fray, while the others stood frozen on the spot, ice crystals sheathing their legs. I staggered the being with a brief shout, and it snapped its crooked head in our direction. Icy plumes burst from the dead king's hands, forcing us to slow our step and raise our arms to our faces. Galmar had taken the full brunt of the numbing cold and had collapsed in frigid paralysis in front of me. With a yell, Ralof struck the draugr from behind, staggering it and distracting it from using its magicka. It turned around to face him, and raised its jagged sword. The dustman's eyes met Ralof's, and he froze in a terror I didn't see earlier on the battlefield. By now, my limbs had thawed just enough to allow me to realize what was happening. If I shouted the words of fire at the draugr, they would also burn Ralof. Who knew where Whirlwind Sprint would land me; that shout was like unleashing a tempest. There wasn't enough time to make a run for a stab at its back. There was only one thing I could do. 

            I _Blinked_ directly beside the draugr and drove my small blade through its eye. It fell to its knees and a now mobile Stormcloak smashed it to bits with her hammer. Panting, Ralof and I looked at each other. His eyes were wide, and my stomach dropped. 

            "Thank you," He said quietly. Despite the dim light, I could see his dilated pupils moving rapidly from one side to the other, searching my own eyes for some kind of answer. 

            "You helped us first," I replied as Galmar pried the Jagged Crown off the decaying head of the draugr, unaware of what I had just done. "Now let's get out of here." 

            We exited the crypt to the pale glow of the afternoon sun through the trees. The sole three Stormcloak soldiers that had come out unscathed no longer showed fear in their faces; their steps were not hesitant. They only kept their eyes to the horizon as they silently walked back to our camp in the woods. 

* * *

            "Where are the rest of your men, Galmar?" Ulfric asked as the six of us silently limped into The Palace of the Kings the next evening. Disheveled, dirty, covered in blood and soot, all of us. Galmar stopped in front of the Jarl and reached into his rucksack to pull out the wrapped crown. Ulfric took the pelt in both hands and looked back at his friend, brows furrowed.

            "This is it," Galmar replied quietly before walking around the corner to the war room, where I could hear him plunking his weapons and armor on the ground, followed closely by Ralof. Ulfric looked at me, and my eyes briefly made contact with his before I walked up the cold stone stairs to our shared chamber.

            One of the only saving graces of being privy to Ulfric's personal quarters was the large stone bathtub that sat in a side room. It could be filled with fresh snow and heated by a fire from below, then drained from a currently plugged hole that ran down into the sea, past the buildings in the Grey Quarter that would likely never see a water pump. I now sat in the scalding water, having added my own flames to the mediocre ones beneath me, a single candle lit in the dim space around the tub. The flames reminded me too much of what happened two days ago, and as much as I wanted more light, I just didn't want to see more fire. As I sat, knees to my chest, I heard footsteps from behind the closed door and I assumed it was one of the servants. 

            "Leave me be," I called out, but I got no response. Instead, the door slowly swung open, and Ulfric walked in. 

            _Just fucking great_ , I thought, curling my knees closer and hugging myself even tighter, tucking my left hand into the crook of my knee. 

            "What are you doing in here?" I grumbled, not looking at the Jarl, my irritation at his intrusion not enough to override my pride so much that I would stand up and leave. 

            "I only wished to speak with you in private," Ulfric replied, pulling up a stool and sitting down across from me. I was glad it was dark. 

            "And you thought this was a good time?" I hissed, looking up at him.

            "Do not misunderstand my intentions, Dragonborn. I only wanted your undivided attention."

            "Well I don't have a choice now, do I?" I asked rhetorically, summoning more flames into the water, hoping it would be off-putting to his true Nord side.

            "You realize we will be married soon, if all goes according to plan," Ulfric said as he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. _Gross_ , I thought, scowling at him - not only was he at least twice my age, but his core morals and principles were so far from mine that his very essence would be revolting even if he were the most handsome young king on Nirn. "But I will not force you into anything you're not comfortable with. A man of my age has many more worthwhile pursuits." 

            "Oh, like you're not forcing me now?"

            "Galmar told me what happened."

            "Was it all worth it?"

            "I cannot say right now," Ulfric sighed.

            "Well you got your damned jewelry, so it must have been then, right?"

            "I have no interest in owning nor wearing the crown. I only care about what it symbolizes for my people." 

            "And what's that? Being cutthroat and merciless?" I muttered, watching the small ripples on the water surface. 

            "Making something that lasts; a legacy for Skyrim. One history can say was won through true grit," Ulfric paused briefly before exhaling loudly. "I know what the battlefield is like, Dragonborn. I've been there. I've seen my friends, my Nord brothers, cut down right beside me. I've been tortured by the Thalmor, and I was almost executed. It is the same story for countless other Nords. That is why I wish to establish something meaningful and unshakable - so that the people of Skyrim will know it was not for nothing."

            "You don't think your people won't become cynical when they find out what it cost?"

            Ulfric had turned his head to look at the flickering candle, and spoke slowly. "It's always a risk, but that's why you will help strengthen their faith in their leadership. You've done a lot for this province, and the people haven't forgotten. Why else would they be willing to raise an army in your name?"

            "They don't even know me," I said.

            "They don't have to," Ulfric replied, turning his head back towards me. "They only need to hear about your adventures to believe, so keep making more stories."

            "If we win the war, there won't be any more stories. I'll be a kept woman after that."

            "You don't truly believe I'd have you do nothing but sit on a throne? There's still work to be done throughout Skyrim." Ulfric leaned forward onto his elbows. I looked down and shrugged. What felt like several minutes passed before Ulfric sighed again. "You do know what a legacy is, right?" He asked quietly. Did I care? I wondered, still looking away. Ulfric continued. "It is planting the seeds for a garden that you will never sit in."

            I continued to look down at the now murky water as he rose and walked away, slowly closing the door behind him.

* * *

* * *


End file.
